


Behind the Veil of Fame and Debauchery

by seademons



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drinking to Cope, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Popularity, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 188,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seademons/pseuds/seademons
Summary: “Do you know what I’m talking about, Karkat? When you enter the room and it feels like summer. When you look at me and your eyes go round and I know you see me. When you’re next to me and it feels right and I know that that’s where you belong; in my car, in my bed, under my arm. Withme.”“You’re fucking drunk.”





	1. Famous first words

It was a universally known fact that the entirety of the campus knew the Strilondes, if not from sitting five rows away from one of them in Math, or glancing at their gathered up bunch in the hallways between periods, then from bumping into them at the dancefloor of that week’s biggest Greek party, photographed by the dozens and posted on every single social media platform in existence. As far as the general public knew, none of them were certified Greeks, and, perhaps because of that, they were all very welcome in every single Greek house around. Some said it was because of their impeccable style, others said it was their sheer good looks, but, truth was, they were just really fucking cool. Easily the coolest people that any nerd on campus would’ve ever gotten to meet, really; designer shades shining, eyeliner always on point, alliteration on their names simply to top it all off. Crossing paths with them after an eight a.m. class and catching a whiff of the expensive atmosphere that hung heavy about them felt like soaking up a percentage of stardom simply by proxy. Karkat felt like his net worth had gone up by a hundred dollars ever since Dirk Strider had been placed into his ECE class this semester, and he had never even talked to the guy, not while sitting exactly six seats away from him for two hours a week. 

In fact, with how many electives this family took, it was no surprise that most people around campus had shared at least one class with a considerable number of them over these last two and a half years. Karkat himself had been classmates with every single one, but more consistently with Dirk, because it seemed that they had both been pursuing the same Major, a revelation that had not unfolded itself as something joyous to him two weeks ago. Still, all that he knew about the guy had come from the crowd around him, and not the man himself. They had never spoken to one another, and he sincerely didn’t think that that would’ve changed anytime soon, mostly because he wasn’t very good at making friends; the ones from high school had been in radio silence since he had moved away for college, and the ones from here, well. Well. All that they really knew about him was his first name and how good he was with numbers, which seemed very little while six seats away from Dirk Strider, but a whole lot when paired up with John Egbert, the only asshole around here with whom he actually talked sometimes.  _ Sometimes _ being the very important keyword in this sentence, because it seemed that this semester was the first in which they didn’t happen to share a class. Now this realization hit him a little harder than the other, though not by all that much; finding another Egbert out there couldn’t have been so difficult, though it sure would’ve been nice to look forward to something, but whatever. He supposed he’d see Egbert at lunch. 

He had never really done that, approached Egbert willingly and started a conversation with him first, always having had that done to him instead, and it felt weird, crossing the canteen toward the guy. Objectively, nobody around gave him a single glance at that, despite how hot under the collar he felt, as if being watched by the entirety of the food court while hurrying weirdly through the crowd, in the aisles between populated tables, because, in truth, no one cared, only his inner demons. With two eyes set on the one head of black hair that he knew, he approached, lungs already filling up to speak, a fully fledged out sentence at the tip of the tongue. He grabbed Egbert’s arm for attention, having the guy turn to look at him. 

“Hey, shithead; I thought we had Math together this semester.” 

“Oh, hey, Karkat. I’m actually taking Calculus this time around.” 

Egbert talked, and the flow of students that circulated the area remained constant, the line ahead of him moving, people coming and going with their own lunches in hand, loud chatter almost deafening to the untrained ear. It was only when Dave Strider took a step from behind Egbert that Karkat noticed him there at all, aviators locked squarely onto his face, perfect insouciance in the straight line of his brows and the stillness of his lips. This revelation was the worst one yet, stripping him of the ability to breathe for a whole thirty seconds, his eyes feeling too big to be on his own face. Silence after John spoke, obviously his turn to retaliate, but nothing inhabited his brain currently, a long scream bouncing around his skull instead. He blinked, face growing warmer, and finally managed to peel his eyes away from his own reflection on Ray-Ban shades. 

“Cool.” 

It was a miracle that that managed to leave his throat at all, really, so he took the opportunity and fled immediately after. Not all battles had to be won. Egbert didn’t call for him, his small frame slipped through the crowd with ease, and he soon found himself outside, breathing deeply, a gust of fresh air ruffling his hair as he stood by the entrance doors, trying to seem inconspicuous. He wheezed once, heart beating out of his chest, hands shaking, and not because of Dave Strider, evidently; he must’ve been low on sugar, that was all. Dave Strider didn’t have that reach on him, never would’ve been able to just because he dressed well and looked ridiculously good all the time, from every single angle, but especially from two rows and eight seats away twice a week last semester, and three rows and twelve seats the semester before. Dave Strider was a huge nerd who sucked at math and could’ve very well benefitted from pairing up with him or sitting even remotely closer, but destiny hadn’t agreed on that, which was just as fine, because he couldn’t even picture a scenario like it. What the fuck would he even have said? What would Dave Strider have said to  _ him? _ What did it feel like to have his name on Dave Strider’s pouty lips? His heart jumped up to his throat. In the distance, the familiar rumble of lively conversation growing closer from around the corner, promptly making him scurry off to seclusion. Not today. 

Maybe stirring the pot back there had been a bad idea, and waiting around for a new sentient being who would’ve been unfortunately chosen to pair up with him for the next project was a safer bet at social connection than ever hanging around Egbert too much. He consistently forgot that Egbert and the Strilondes were best of friends, because John was such a huge fucking loser, but the five all had history with him, childhood companions or whatever, one-time neighbors maybe, he wasn’t sure; rumors and reality ruined one another. Nobody really knew where Egbert stood in the popularity scale here, because his choice of friends seemed very arbitrary, but his list of connections was objectively very interesting. It was all too bad that he dressed like such a dumb idiot, something quite impressive when taken into account the Strilonde’s influence on him, which was apparently zero. Unfortunate!

Karkat’s dorm inhabited absolutely no one of interest in it, his room unshared, just enough space for a single bed, a writing desk and a closet, all of which he used a lot, the bed his natural habitat. He didn’t have a television, and contented himself with watching movies on his laptop or scrolling down his phone in his spare time, checking the news on the worst possible apps for that, his Facebook feed filled with posts from his old high school friends and his adoptive family members, all of which weren’t even close to him in the slightest. Posts about future parties that he wouldn’t attend were the only ones that he actually cared to read, the prospect of suddenly up and going to one enough to derail the rhythm of his running pulse. He’d never find himself doing that, but the thought still hounded him, clouded in mixed feelings, the possibility of bumping into Dave Strider in the partial dark exciting, neon lights dyeing the platinum of his hair pink and the loud music that reverberated through their ribs making them move, having them naturally gravitate toward each other, the aviators focused on his face and him entranced by the eyebrows that poked from behind it, until he inevitably spilled both of their drinks all over Strider and killed the whole moment, which would’ve been just too much to handle, and already was, even in imagination. He hyperventilated, all in all terrified. The events of this morning had already erased themselves from his mind. 

The Strilondes were all intimidating for different reasons, all of which were completely arbitrary to the observer, of course, who usually happened to have a crush on at least one of them, and, in his case, because he definitely didn’t have a crush on any of them. Not a one, and especially not on Dave Strider, who was just a nerd in disguise, really; bad at numbers but great at knowing very random shit about animals and making obscure references about Snoop Dogg’s early career tangled up in long, drawn-out tangents that had his siblings, or maybe cousins, continuing on the conversation without him as he trailed off by himself. Not that Karkat really knew, though, never having said a single word to Strider himself, only catching a glimpse of his interactions with the others as he inconspicuously passed them by toward his next class. It wasn’t his fault that Dirk Strider was in a lot of his classes, and that his maybe-twin seemed to always drop him off at the door before taking the stairs up. 

If Dave Strider scared him, then Dirk Strider unnerved him. Too tall, his face completely unreadable at all times, too white, his skin peppered with freckles to cover up his veins, and too smart, always drawn to his own business, scribbling away on notepads, absolutely mute in class. Karkat didn’t know him at all, but had seen him outside of class once or twice as a talkative individual, generally hanging around his family, no other acquaintances coming to mind in regards to this lone wolf. Usually in black and white, accents in orange, loose pants that hugged his calves and tight tank tops to go with them, definitely the better dressed of them all in any weather. Hair styled up and back, sometimes with a hat, but very rarely under any hoodies, Dirk Strider’s arms always exposed, bearing about four tattoos in total, one on the shoulder and three scattered about his forearms. No colors, only black lineart, simple designs. Karkat had had a lot of time to watch this guy over the last two and a half years, who might’ve been the reason for his purchasing a pair of Vans just last year, even though he preferred Nikes. 

Dirk Strider’s taciturn façade to the waking world was performance art and everybody knew that; he partied with his family multiple times a week, DJayed with his brother whenever invited to, was very often found on the dancefloor redefining a generation with his moves, but was mostly known for holding his liquor impressively well. A perfect porcelain statue during the day and completely off the shits at night, Dirk Strider was a flipped coin, impossible to predict, and, to Karkat, the personification of a twenty-thousand piece puzzle that looked like Paris, but was really just a snapshot of downtown Houston. Too smart to be in college, too handsome to avoid scandal, handed too many privileges to be a good guy; there was something below the surface that Karkat couldn’t see, and that had consistently bugged him for over two years. At the same time that he wanted to figure that out, however, he really, really didn’t. Dirk Strider terrified him. 

That was why, when Strider turned to look at him in the middle of a very drawn-out lecture on the basics of ECE, pointy shades obviously facing him and half of Strider’s body swiveled around the seat of his chair to very clearly indicate a shift of attention, Karkat couldn’t help but stare right back, bug-eyed and stupid. The six empty seats that separated them, for the first time in two years, didn’t seem to have been enough buffers. 

“If an AI programmed after your own mind, taught to rationally and emotionally respond to outside events based on your own personal past behaviors to similar occurrences, passes the Turing test, does it mean it’s no longer identifiable as an insentient machine?” 

Paralyzed, he blinked. Dirk Strider was really out here just unpromptedly talking to him, huh. This felt like a fucking nightmare. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I mean, you’ve clearly succeeded in your godly endeavors at such point, but does that presuppose existing rights to your creation? Is it an unquestionable addition to society?” 

He squinted, eyebrows pinching together. 

“What are you talking about?” 

With a pencil in hand, Strider shook it in between his fingers, almost bouncing it from knuckle to knuckle like a drummer, but keeping it within the first three instead. 

“I’m talking about artificial consciousness. If a silicone copy of your brain exists, does it feel? And if it does, are the feelings your exact ones for the exact same people? If it meets somebody knew, will it develop the feelings that you would had you met them, too? If you meet them at a later point, will your feelings be the same as the AI’s? Can it correctly predict your reactions to hypothetical scenarios?” 

Alright, this guy was clearly fucking with him, and knowing that was very relieving, because it meant that he wasn’t obligated to say absolutely anything else to this clownery. He turned back around to face forward, where the professor stood at the pit of the room, at the bottom of the stairs, scribbling wildly on the whiteboard. Six seats away, Dirk Strider’s leg bounced, and he knew it from the rustling of his pants, pencil still shaking left to right in his peripheral. 

“If you ceased to exist, how would the brain react to your death? Would it continue on living for you? Would it grieve? Would your friends know the difference?” 

He turned to stare at Strider again. 

“Dirk, is there something you want to tell me?” 

At that, both the leg and pencil stopped moving, shades zeroed in on his face. The sudden change almost made him shit his pants and immediately change his mind about it, apologize profusely and excuse himself out of the classroom, but even for that he’d have to wiggle past the small space between Dirk Strider’s long legs and the backrest of the desk chair before him, one step down. He was stuck in here, and that very impolite question really had been his choice as one of the very first things to personally direct at Dirk Strider. Undoubtedly, he was going insane. 

“I’m considering doing something stupid and irresponsible.” 

For a second there, he forgot just how nice all of the Strilondes were, which explained why Strider here hadn’t simply jabbed him in the gut and moved on with his day. He breathed. 

“Well, then you probably shouldn’t, because I know that if you try, you’ll succeed, so.” 

“I tried at thirteen and failed miserably. An abomination was born and soon thereafter terminated by the same pair of hands. I haven’t tried the same since, but we’re looking into some electrophysics material right now that just keeps me wondering, what if. What if I hadn’t used that conduct, what if I hadn’t coded it that way, what if I tried to surpass myself now? I mean really push myself, what would come out of it? Another abomination, most likely, but maybe… Adam? Look, man, I don’t  _ want _ to play God, but all of my outlets point that way. Tell me why I shouldn’t follow this trail to find out what’s at the end of it.” 

“You want to create an artificial human?” 

One palm up, and he had said the wrong thing. He acknowledged that. 

“Let’s not go so far. I’m starting off with a simple copy of myself. A  _ perfect _ copy of my intellect. Not just that, but an exact copy of my way of thinking, too; my speech patterns, my tendencies, how I act towards others, but something so genuine and so real that people won’t be able to tell the difference, not even the ones closest to me. Was that Dirk that I just heard, or was it the AI? With the same limitations and the same worldview, it’d be a synthetic clone.” 

A brow lifted high on his forehead as Strider went on, his voice low and smooth, almost mechanical, an unwavering constant that made him sound like an audiobook for 2001: A Space Odyssey. He listened with both eyes slitted, none of this sounding right to him, an audacious project that, unfortunately, a lot of scientists out there had also been chasing after for further ego inflation, fame and credit. Differently from the others, however, he had a feeling that Dirk Strider would’ve been able to achieve what no one could, and maybe the fear of that future was what formulated his answer. 

“You know you’ll be wasting your time on a software that won’t do you any good, right? I mean, a self-thinking robot programmed to not respond to commands won’t do any tasks for you, and much less hear what you have to say. You’d be essentially accomplishing nothing here, and if that’s the case, then you might as well just have a kid, I guess. It’ll doubt your intellect and be non-responsive to orders just the same.” 

“Would it treat me like a god, though? Would it feel inferior because I am its creator?” 

“Do you  _ want _ to feel like a god?” 

A pause, the pencil in Strider’s hand moving only minutely, his focus inward. He leaned back onto his seat, one knee bent to rest a foot under the chair, and the other stretched out in the middle of the aisle, in the space between him and the row ahead, black Vans with white laces pointed up. A heartbeat, two, and nothing yet, so Karkat decided to risk himself some more and go for gold, which really just meant bold-faced truths, a dangerous move considering who he was talking to, and just how  _ not _ close they were. Practically strangers, really; waving at random on the street was more personal than this. 

“Look, if the whole reason why you want to create some sort of sentient being is to have your ego stroked and your god complex fed, then you really don’t have to. For you, there are easier ways to achieve that, just because of who you are.” 

Slowly, the pencil moved again, accompanied by more silence from the blonde, who really seemed to have been taking all of this into account, sitting mostly still at his desk. His leg bounced once, and the shades were back to glancing at Karkat. 

“Are you putting me on a pedestal here, Vantas?” 

Oh, fuck, he knew his name. Dirk Strider knew his name. Holy shit. What? 

“What?” 

“Making a synthetic copy of myself has a lot more to do with immortality than superiority, but thanks for the input; I'll be self-analyzing that for the rest of my life." The bell rang, loud and shrill. Dirk Strider gathered his belongings and got up. "See you around." 

Walking slowly through the hallways, the world around him hurried past, as if he had been stuck halfway in a dream that refused to let him go, like watching himself sleep while standing in the corner of the room. At one point, he wasn't even sure if Dirk Strider had even talked to him at all. If asked about what had trespassed ten minutes ago, he didn't know what to say, the whole encounter foggy and unclear, a much deeper meaning hiding behind artificial intelligence and the prospect of sentient machinery. In fact, he had no idea what had just happened. It felt like a blackout. 

A third of the way down the stairs, he ran into John Egbert, climbing quick, barely even catching sight of him, clearly focused on something else, far ahead. That had him breaking out of his weird, semi out of body trance in a second, his shoulders promptly pushing past the crowd to take Egbert's arm for attention, holding on tight as if his only lifeline to reality. Wide-eyed, his claws dug into Egbert’s jacket sleeve. 

"I talked to Dirk today." He vomited out immediately upon contact, a weight lifting off his back with it, despite the fact that he had no idea where this sudden urge to share information had come from, something that had literally never happened to him before, and especially not in regards to Egbert. Still, saying it out in the open kind of felt like what had trespassed was real now, undeniable this time. Reasonably, that didn’t make sense, but he felt instantly validated by his own damn self from it. Maybe he had just been going for assurance. 

Very distracted by the stream of students that flowed up and down the staircase, Egbert nodded, his eyes barely managing to focus on his face at all. It would've been offensive had he given a shit, but as he didn't, the mere fact that Egbert had heard him and responded was good enough. He was just that self-centered. 

"I don't know what he wants from me, and it's probably nothing, anyway, but it was still fucking weird. He knew my name." 

"Yeah, what's the problem?" Egbert spoke while making to move, to continue his way up the steps, so Karkat loosened the hold on him and followed, a hand on the extra portion of the sleeve that didn’t touch the arm. 

"The problem is I'm no one. I'm not supposed to  _ be _ anyone. How does he know my name?" 

"Karkat, you've been classmates forever." 

"Big deal, we've never talked. He shouldn't know I exist." 

"You're my friend, too. He knows about you." 

"You talk to him about  _ me?" _ In his spare time, hanging out at the cafeteria, chatting it up at a party,  _ he _ was the topic of choice, out of everyone else in the world. Out of everything else in the world, too; now this was hard to believe. Follow up question to stab through the veil, You talk to  _ them _ about  _ me? _ And, more importantly, a heavy hand knocking on the back of his mind, shaking his rib cage with it, a shortness of breath from the mere thought, You talk to…  _ Him… _ About me? His heart pounded, the hand on Egbert’s sleeve dropped. 

"We talk about everyone, Karkat. What's so surprising?" 

He blinked. On a second thought, it really kind of wasn't, but viewing himself as a living being with a physical form who got talked about by others was just a very slippery concept to grasp. In his mind, he was only a notion of sentience, a speckle of dust in the air that no one even cared to acknowledge. It was fucked up that the Strilondes were out here straight up  _ talking _ about him without him even knowing. Picturing the four of them gathered up in the hallways whispering and snickering, caring to spend even a second thinking and talking about him gave him whiplash. It was kind of unimaginable, even though it would’ve made perfect sense had the subject of conversation been literally anybody else. He only had a problem with that because it was himself. 

"Look, I have to go, but we'll catch up later, alright?" Spoken quickly, Egbert in an obvious rush to get somewhere, running off before he could've even answered that. Joke was on him, though, because Karkat was in no way inclined to answer him in the first place. Whatever. 

At the next ECE class, there was an immediate difference; Dirk Strider didn't talk to him at all, which gave him a false sense of security that their bizarre interaction had only been a one-off thing, when, as it turned out, it wasn't. One lecture later, and another approach happened, much like the first; weirdly existential questions verging on philosophical with a multitude of personal exposition beneath the surface, Dirk Strider's loneliness something very relatable. He would've never said that out loud, of course, much less to the man six seats away from him, but it was clear that Dirk was lonely, his weird obsession with synthetic creations to eat up his every word and revere him as a god very telling. Karkat had thought of that before, how nice it would've been to have had an important position in the world, but soon contented himself with the one half-friend that he had here and his own tormented thoughts. It could've been worse, he supposed. 

The weirdest thing about Strider, though, was that he didn't  _ have _ to be lonely. Some people didn't have a choice, sure, just completely inept at making new friends or even interacting with society at the edges, but Strider decidedly wasn't one of them. Popular enough to not even have to go through the ordeal of making friends, he just had them, a selection to choose from, because everyone on campus knew him; he had tables to choose from at lunch and addresses to drop by at night, it was something else. Must've been, and serious, too, if his choice of listener was Karkat out of every single human in this stupid classroom. He must've been going through some sort of midlife crisis equivalent to a young, white, rich boy who had everything handed to him, then. What did a person who suffered no prejudice worry about? Karkat didn’t know.

Most of their interactions consisted of Strider talking about vaguely ethical matters in regards to a hypothetical society whose sentient machines walked among humans, an obvious fan of Philip K. Dick and Isaac Asimov, two of the biggest blowhards on the planet, all of which Karkat didn't give a shit about. Strider talked of his own creations, his future thoughts, improvements to current practices in the electronic world, and never failed to make Karkat wonder just what the fuck, really, was this guy doing here. He should've been appointed the next Einstein or something, yet here he was, not listening to a single word that came out of their professor's mouth, yet discussing every single topic mentioned at length with a troll who had started to regret his choice of Major, his own intellect infinitesimal next to Dirk Strider's. It was obvious that Strider got off on feeling superior, but wouldn’t it have been more fun if he had taken up a real challenge, like the humans out front who sit close enough to kiss the professor’s ass? It didn’t make sense. Maybe this was all just a circus and he, unknowingly, was the clown. At this point, it wouldn’t have been surprising. 

Their interactions didn’t leave the classroom, as they weren’t supposed to, and he was fine with that, would’ve even had very sacredly kept the code if he had spotted the Strilondes when coming up to Egbert in the hallways that week. They stood about ten feet away, gathered in something of a conspiratorial bunch, as usual, but since Egbert still hadn’t reached them, and a handful of people walking past found themselves blocking the view of the family, Karkat’s general blindness to tell humans apart tricked him into believing that they were alone. Innocently approaching, he took Egbert’s arm, which staggered the guy back a step, but wasn’t enough to keep him from walking. Side-by-side, they continued along the hallway, him talking loudly on the meanwhile, because he had never really learned the art of indoor voices. 

“Egbert, everyday he’s getting weirder, and it’s always me, too; I’m starting to wonder if--” Here, he cut himself off, his eyes finally falling on the four humans that watched the two of them walk over, the distance between them about extinguished from this close. He was officially less than six feet away from Dave Strider again. Bug-eyed, he could feel his own face heat up, the pit of his stomach now harboring his fallen heart, frozen solid from the recognition, his reflection a distorted canvas on dark aviators. He wanted to scream, suddenly, but only managed to pry his eyes away and train them on Egbert’s face instead, a fight or flight response to just  _ not _ look at who he couldn’t stop looking at, his eyes unfocused, his mind a vacant motel room, and his throat swallowing down a strangled noise. 

“Hey, Vantas, are you having lunch with us?” A familiar voice that made him turn to stare at Strider, the other one, the whatever one, while everybody else stared back at him. 

He didn’t have a single word in his mouth to answer that, a particular gaze burning the very side of his face. 

“We’re going to Subway, if you want to come.” Egbert shrugged, nonchalant, his face an excuse to focus on, eyes bouncing overhead to avoid a portion of the crowd. 

Having lunch with these people was possibly the worst thing that he could’ve ever done to himself, destined to spend at least an hour with them, stuck together on the way to and back and inside a shitty sandwich restaurant while they talked, and looked at him, and maybe even asked him questions. Engaged him in conversation! He was absolutely sure that if Dave Strider were to direct even a single word in his general direction, he’d vomit his entire lunch on the table and excuse himself for a quick, irreversible trip to Hell in the bathroom, and maybe that was why he agreed to it, a silent nod that bounded him to the ones who he avoided the most for the entirety of the next hour. Following the humans downstairs, he immediately regretted his decision. 

The six of them crossed the campus like a flock of geese, a couple inevitably up front to lead the rest, but not always the same two, positions interchangeable among the whole, the entire group talking within itself and moving around to speak to one another, the ones at the front coming to the back and vice-versa, depending on subject demand. It was dizzying to watch, and his only saving grace was that Egbert remained loyally by his side the whole time, not really going around but having others come to him instead, mostly the Striders, mostly Dave. 

In a red and white varsity that made him look like a jock, Dave Strider was stunning; hair perfectly brushed to the side, black t-shirt showing underneath, skinny jeans all the way down his legs, and flat Nikes on his feet.  _ Nikes,  _ the fully white ones that he had almost bought before moving for college, but a black pair on himself instead. Sneaking full-body glances, he watched Dave from the corner of his eye, but only when Strider walked ahead of them, a hand usually lingering by his pants pockets, the other making a flipping motion as he talked sometimes, as if he were spinning an invisible record. Karkat didn’t know what that was about, but it was still kind of mesmerizing to watch, the way he flicked his wrist, the knuckles on his delicate hands, the tan of his skin. Voice low, smaller than his brother’s, almost confidential, and usually around a half-smile or the beginnings of one that never really formed; it soothed Karkat’s ears, gave him chills. Dave Strider was really something to look at, and listen to, and picture in his head, and dream about, and intensely yearn for, and, and, Subway emerged in the horizon. They were here. 

Everybody ordered a foot long, and so did he, just to fit in, because he knew damn well that there was no way in Hell that he would’ve ever been able to shove this entire thing in his face while being carefully observed by five fucking humans and not choke to death. No way, but still he ordered a foot long sandwich, a large drink to go with it, and a chocolate chip cookie to top it all off. Might as well embrace the Devil, he supposed, and copy everybody else’s orders to avoid getting any looks from his peers whatsoever. They took their respective trays and sat down on a big, long booth by the front window, so the whole world could see him having lunch with these guys. Cool. He didn’t say a single thing about that. 

For the most part, lunch went fine; the humans talked about the classes that they were having this semester, Dave shared his personal relief to the fact that he didn’t have Math this time around, which was a little upsetting, but then followed that up with a confession that he’d probably need Statistics next semester, which was much more exciting news, plus some general talk throughout lunch about the people that they knew, and, evidently, that Karkat had no idea who they were. Crocker this, Harley that, he didn’t care to really listen, busying himself with his sandwich as the others managed to not address him at all. Very relaxing, this whole experience a lot more enjoyable already, Dave’s voice the only thing that he really heard, the timbre of it, his Texan accent, the way that he went off on long tangents and barely ever came back. It was cute. For someone who constantly looked like a movie star, Dave Strider was surprisingly adorable. Sure, his brother shared the same accent and also used a thousand words to flesh out a single thought, but that was different. That was a whole separate occurrence. Dave Strider was something else. 

On the way back to campus, the one subject that even remotely interested Karkat arose, his knowledge of it from the posts online, his daydreams about it fully personal: this week’s string of parties that the Strilondes would be attending, one of which was a lot more impressive than the others, Kappa Sig’s anniversary this Saturday night. The sorority had been hyping that up for a month, and had always delivered in the past, which was what got everybody’s interest this time around for the alleged biggest party of the year, no entrance fees, no supervision, only alcohol and birthday gifts, meaning donations on their website by whoever cared to do that. Karkat felt his eyes shine when the Strilondes brought that up, saying that they’d be showing up sometime after six thirty, and would John like a ride? A hand running through Egbert’s hair in response, an obvious display of uncertainty, Egbert seeming very torn on this decision for some reason. Next to him, Dave took a step closer. 

“You’re going, right?” 

“Ah, man, I don’t know. I have to study for next week.” 

“Bullshit. What’s making you back out?” 

“Nothing, Dave, I just don’t know. I don’t know if I want to go.” 

“Why not? We had this planned out for weeks. I thought--” A pause, Strider clearly cutting himself off here, for an undisclosed reason that made Karkat believe it was his presence. A click of the tongue, the quick flashing of white teeth, and Strider turned his face aside, a hint of discomfort in his posture, the way that he held his shoulders just a little too high. Watching him, Karkat squinted, entranced by the fact that he had no idea how to read this reaction at all. 

“Whatever, we’re picking you up at seven. Maybe earlier, I’ll text you.” 

An eye roll, a shake of the head, and Egbert was visibly over it. “Fine.” 

Suddenly, aviator shades stared at him dead on, making his blood pressure drop immediately and his eyes blow wide. He couldn’t breathe, lightning striking him from head to toe and freezing his entire body in place. 

“Are you going, Karkat?” 

Holy fucking shit, holy shit, holy shit, his name on Dave’s mouth, his reflection on Dave’s shades, words from Dave’s tongue directed solely at him, and Dave’s attention on his face while waiting for an answer. For  _ his _ answer, oh my god. Oh my god. He could feel his stomach churning, breath escaping him entirely, his body temperature dropping ten degrees in the span of a second. This was it, the whole reason why he had agreed to lunch at all. He was about to explode. 

“No.” 

Holy shit, they had just fucking talked. Officially talked, staring at each other, a question and its corresponding answer. This was insane. He was going to scream. 

“Why not?” 

Oh, god, Dave, stop. Don’t ruin the sanctity of this. Don’t make him say another word and sound stupid; he was trying so hard, please. 

“I can’t.” 

Well, there it went, then; just like that, the damage was done. Thanks a lot. Besides making him do it, though, Dave also had to rub it in and really emphasize on how dumb he had just sounded, a crease in between the lenses and an eyebrow poking from above the rim. Having to watch his own reflection on those shades and see his stupid face was absolute torture. He wanted to punch him, but even the thought of that, of their skins connecting, was enough to send shivers down his spine. His jaw set before Strider had even said anything else, ready for the ridicule, preemptively scowling at it, hands coiled in fists, but nothing came. Dave Strider didn’t say another word, his maybe-sister, maybe-cousin interrupting their conversation instead. 

“Dave, you don’t need a wingman to go talk to her at the party.” 

Her. The word struck him through the chest as Dave whipped around to look at his family, leaving him to his own private grief, which, honestly. Honestly wasn’t all that surprising, because of  _ course _ Dave Strider was a straight man with a crush on a human woman, like, what could have been more obvious? Maybe it was unclear whether or not his crush was a human, sure, but anyone could’ve fucking guessed. Jesus. He didn’t know what he had been thinking, really, going out to lunch with them, as if anything good could’ve transpired from it. God. With both hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, he disbanded from the group, walking off with a characteristic Irish goodbye on his part that most likely would’ve come up in conversation later, but not that he cared to know it.

Fuck.


	2. Never Have I Ever

Kappa Sig’s Facebook page was littered with posts and pictures of the party, all of which proved the theory that the event had been massive; a huge mansion filled with rich kids drinking out of solo cups and dancing to electronic music, glitter sticking to makeup and making everyone sparkle, some sort of unicorn theme going on there, horns glued to tiaras and all. Kind of offensive, but whatever; he hadn’t attended, anyway, scrolling down his phone the whole night through instead, waiting for the first excuse to go off on Strider, to figure out which of these girls was the one, and how far he had gotten with her. His skin burned, pulse racing as he scrutinized every picture posted, every status published, but still couldn’t find anything past the Strilondes generally hanging out together, with Dirk branching off to DJ at some point or another, glitter on his face and cat ears on his head that hadn’t been there from the beginning. He huffed, ten pictures total that featured Dave at all, every single one accompanied by his family; Egbert there for moral support, he guessed, and nothing really incriminating. Maybe he had been searching out of bloodlust, sure, but maybe he just wanted to know Dave’s type, too; to figure out what kind of person he was into, and if they really had to be human. He didn’t know anything at this point, and, at two in the morning, locked his phone screen to finally settle into the dark. 

ECE the following week was very quiet, with Dirk Strider strangely not inclined to chat this time, his presence late for both classes and generally unresponsive to anything that the professor had been talking about, not even passing remarks spoken out loud to the void, much less to another living being. For someone who always looked so dashing and confident all the time, these two days Strider was way below his own standards, hair down with bangs over his forehead, bags below his eyes, and a hoodie to hide under. A  _ hoodie,  _ long sleeves with the cuffs down to his hands and the hood partially over his head, a telltale act even if it matched the rest of his outfit and still looked better than half of the campus. Right now, he looked tragically pedestrian, hunched over his desk, locked away in his own mind and notebook, mute. Karkat wasn’t even sure who this was, but didn’t start anything, either. Everyone had bad days, he supposed, even the Strilondes. 

The following week, after a few parties over the weekend that would be all over everyone’s feeds for the next seven days, Strider was back to his usual self, bare arms out on the sun and hair styled up and back, sitting with his spine straight and his attention all over the place, from the professor to his own thoughts and back, legs stretched out into the aisle ahead, pencil shaking like a pendulum in between his fingers. This was the guy that Karkat was used to by now, who seized his attention every fifteen minutes for a rhetorical conversation that never really got anywhere and made his grades drop even further, except this time two seats closer, and not for any particular reason, either, because nobody sat in this row; too far from the lecture down below. He didn’t, however, exactly hate it. Despite everything, company was still company. 

Strider bothered him for two weeks straight, intermingling their philosophical digressions with startling questions about his presence at so-and-so’s party that Saturday, or some club that Friday, or general invasiveness about what he did on his Sundays. It was weird to have these sort of interrogations be directed at him and waited on for actual, serious replies when his entire life was a joke, but he still found himself indulging Strider for some reason and owning up to the fact that he preferred solitude over noise and debauchery. Immediately after having said that, however, he cringed, already regretting his choice of words and just how frank they were with someone that he barely even knew. At that, Strider asked if he had ever gotten drunk before. 

“No, and I don’t intend to; alcohol tastes disgusting and turns everyone into an idiot, but thanks.” 

“You say that because you haven’t had my cousin’s martinis.” 

Okay, so they  _ were _ cousins, the Striders and the Lalondes; that explained the different last names much better than some conspiracy theories out there that the bunch had probably never discredited because of how ridiculous they were. A number of them considered multiple marriages within the family, adoption, parental death, and even genocide, just to name a few. In the end, logically, they were just cousins. 

“Yeah, I know about her famous martinis, but it still doesn’t make me want to do it.” 

Here, Strider cocked his head at him, kind of like a puppy. 

“What are you so afraid of, Vantas? That if you have a drink and let go, the real you will jump out and people will get to know you? That you’ll do everything you never had the courage to do and regret it the next day? That you’ll make a fool out of yourself in front of the whole world and end your reputation? Look, man, if it’s a yes to the last one, then I’ve got news for you.” 

“Oh, funny stuff, Strider. Just novelty material here, really.” 

“What is it, then? Why don’t you try it?” 

“Because I don’t have a reason to. I don’t  _ want _ to.” 

“Not even for science? Just to figure out what kind of drunk you are? I’m sure you’d be surprised.” 

“Oh, please, tell me how.” 

Strider shrugged.

“Just because nobody can accurately predict what happens next. I’d say you’re a violent drunk, but not the type to pick fights, just to shout a lot and do really dumb, dangerous shit, like climb a house or jump from the second floor. Roxy is a revolutionary drunk, she tips a martini and dives into the dancefloor to convert the first capitalist into a guerilla leader; Rose is a deliverer of harsh truths and an expert at exposing herself after two mojitos, while Dave just gets really quiet and contemplative. Everyone’s different.” 

Quiet and contemplative, huh. He wondered what kind of bogus philosophy Dave Strider must’ve been spilling out there to disinterested undergraduates and fucked up jocks in the middle of a college party, shouting his enlightenments over the music to nobody in particular, the whole experience probably very infuriating. It would’ve been, at least, to him, if he had been trying to single-handedly upgrade a society that didn’t care for his heroisms. 

“It’s up to you, though, if you even want to figure that out, but just know that Deke’s this Saturday is a good choice for it, and next Thursday is a holiday.” 

It sure was, though he didn’t exactly get what Strider meant here, if stopping by Walmart for a bottle of vodka to down by himself on a holiday was his idea of a fun time or what. To this guy, he supposed, it would’ve been, because he was always surrounded by family and friends who were more than happy to partake in his eccentric ideas, but Karkat lived alone; he’d never do something so depressing on purpose. 

Evidently, he didn’t go to Deke’s, even if the pictures of it, for the first time in his life, actually made him start to regret that decision, because a smaller party like that could possibly have been fun. The notion terrified him, that he might’ve been changing his mind about this, but a smaller crowd, and a much cheaper entrance fee… It would’ve been manageable. By now, of course, he was far too late for that one, but still a thought roamed in his skull that, maybe, had he gone, he would’ve enjoyed himself. He had no idea  _ why _ he was feeling this way, or where this had come from, but, suddenly, as an all-time first, he kind of wanted to hang out at this sort of event and try to have some fun. The people around him didn’t particularly matter, and the place could’ve been anywhere; he just wanted a small apartment, nice music, and maybe some soda that had been tampered with. Tangentially, maybe Dirk had been right all along, or maybe he had just successfully gotten into Karkat’s head; either way, whatever he had done had worked, and Karkat felt like a fucking clown. Again. 

Looking up next week’s selection of parties had him drowning in options, the extended weekend a provider of four entire days of partying, starting on Wednesday night and stretching all the way to Monday morning. He didn’t have any of the Strilondes connected on Facebook, evidently, but that didn’t stop certain events from telling him of their confirmed presences, anyway, as well as that of some other people of influence around campus. He did have Egbert, however, and supposed that whatever he would be attending was a safe bet on his friends’ appearances as well. In Egbert’s profile, there were only two parties confirmed, but he knew that the others had a lot more planned out. Not that he really wanted to go with them, though, but if he happened to bump into Egbert in someone’s living room, then maybe he’d get a chance to hear what those drunk contemplations were all about. 

In ECE that week, he was the one who brought up the parties to break up their theoretical ramblings for a minute, making his interest inconspicuous, and the approach innocent. Wow, a lot of parties this week, huh. A lot of people sure were confirming their presence to a whole bunch of different stuff all four days and a half, his feed blowing up with ads from beginning to end. He guessed that this holiday would be a busy one for the whole campus, huh. What was Dirk going to do? 

“Tonight’s a starter, we’re having a sleepover to drink and show off our artistic abilities, courtesy of Dave and his addiction with red pens. If you want to come, I can pick you up at six. Where do you live?” 

Oh, shit, alright, he didn’t think that this would’ve been so easy. Fuck, an invitation to spend the night over at the Strilondes’, holy shit. His heart skipped a beat, his brows lifting. Was he ready for this kind of thing? How many people would even be attending? Already, he was freaking out, a very vivid image of himself standing in a corner with a glass of water in hand while a hundred or so people filled up the living room dancing on their feet clouded his mind, flicked a red switch and sounded a syren. He wasn’t ready. 

“How many people are going?” 

“The four of us, you and John.” 

Oh, nevermind, then; scratch all that, he was good. 

“Alright.” 

And he wasn’t scared. A virtual one on one with Dave Strider wasn’t scary if everybody there would be drunk, including the man himself, a taciturn version of him something very interesting to think about, because he was the exact opposite of that, always rambling unprompted. Karkat still didn’t know if he’d drink there or not, but he supposed that he had time to decide, the day barely started. Maybe, if the evening were calm and alright, he thought he’d even go for a sip. 

“I live in a dorm nearby, it’s really not far.” 

“Cool; I’ll pick you up here, then.” 

He wasn’t exactly sure what “here” meant to Strider, but when the clock struck six, he was waiting downstairs by the entrance doors of their ECE building, with a full backpack over his shoulders and his phone in a hand. It was getting dark by now, the sun barely in the sky at all, its last rays flooding the horizon purple and pink, a light breeze starting to pick up. Always in a jacket, he wasn’t worried, going down his Facebook feed on the meanwhile, in between glances at the street, and the people that meandered about, campus grounds never really desolate. He refreshed the feed once, watching the same posts from before scramble themselves and nothing new come up as distant voices soon caught his attention, low tones that he could’ve recognized anywhere. Quickly pocketing his phone, he glanced up to see the Strider boys walk over, his eyes immediately falling on the shorter of the two, in a floral print shirt colored by varying hues of red that looked far too good on his tan skin, arms showing for once, the varsity that he usually wore gone for the evening. Black pants, white Nikes, a snapback on his head, and, God, Dave was absolutely everything. Everything. Karkat glanced him down once and immediately tore his eyes away from him, staring at his brother instead, a deep breath filling up his lungs. It was fine. 

“Hey, Vantas, let’s go.” A brief greeting, a nod of the head clearly indicating where they had parked, and he closed the distance toward them, following the brothers across the campus. Dave had a really, really nice ass, but it’d be fine. He was fine, and not staring. Definitely not staring.  _ Not _ staring! They passed the gates toward a parking lot. 

He had never really wondered what kind of car the Strilondes would drive, the back of his mind sort of assuming a generic model or another on the meantime, but he could say with absolute certainty that he hadn’t thought it would’ve been something that looked like it had been passed down for three generations, tossed into a junkyard, and picked up ten years later by a weirdo with a bagful of scrap metal over a shoulder, though he could very clearly picture Dirk Strider buried deep into house-sized piles of junkyard trash like a kid on Christmas. He knew absolutely nothing about cars, but this looked almost like an antique from how ancient it seemed, a two-door low-rider that was a little too long on the hood and only had one big seat up front, the roof all pleated like an accordion, and probably a folding one, if he had to guess. A junkyard convertible, okay; at least the pearly white paint job looked nice, cream leather upholstery to match, front and back seats. Not all bad. Clearly, they had no permission to have this on the streets, but he wasn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

Dirk took the wheel while Dave opened the passenger door for him, letting him go in first. So he’d be sitting right in between the two brothers for the ride, huh. He really wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Slipping his backpack off, he slung it over the backrest and got in, sliding across the seat closer to Dirk, but not enough to touch a single part of him, very mindful about that.  _ Very _ mindful about that. Then, Dave got in, thigh on thigh pushing him closer to the driver, making cold panic immediately rise up in his throat and his entire body jerk up and away, bumping Dirk on the shoulder by accident, literally nowhere to go from here. Awful idea, he apologized over the passenger door closing and moved an inch away, Dave right next to him, the cologne that he wore enveloping Karkat’s every sense in apples and roses. It was delicious, but not something that he wanted to notice right now, not with Dave Strider’s arm over the back of his seat and their thighs about an inch and a half away. That didn’t help him at all, heart racing against his ribs, their closeness a loud and impossible to ignore scream in his mind that kept him perfectly still all ride long, not moving a single muscle for any reason whatsoever. Deeply uncomfortable, however, he was kind of in Heaven; Dave’s arm around him, Dave’s cologne hopefully clinging to his clothes, the warmth of Dave’s body radiating inside the car, the small space between their thighs electric. He breathed in long, deep breaths and hoped that the Striders wouldn’t notice. Nobody said a word. 

The Strilondes lived in a lot more unimpressive house than he had expected them to, and, following Dave out of the car while very explicitly  _ not _ looking at his ass, he realized that he didn’t know what kind of life these guys actually had. He had always assumed that they were rich, just because of the way that they dressed and how often they went out to party, but he didn’t really know, and, by the looks of it, he had been wrong this whole time. Painfully average, a two-story suburban house in the most whatever part of town was absolutely not what he had been looking forward to, and already changed his way of seeing this entire evening through, because, now, he wasn’t even sure that they had a guest room at all, and if they didn’t, then he had no idea where himself and Egbert would be sleeping. Hopefully not in each other’s vicinity, and that already would’ve been good enough. He slammed the door of Dirk’s scrap metal convertible shut and followed the brothers across their disturbingly prosaic front yard, which had a tree on the right lawn, and a very nice little flower bed on the left, under a window. Climbing up the front porch almost felt like being back home, a flashback of his entire childhood running across his eyes, the many times that he had been in this very house, playing on this exact same lawn. Fundamentally, humans really were all the same, no matter how many children they chose to raise. 

Inside, the other three were already getting started on the drinks, clearly not waiting for them to arrive; Roxy had a mixer in hand, shaking it vigorously, while Egbert drank from a glass, and Rose fiddled with her phone, the music that flowed from the television changing every two seconds. They were all in the living room off to the right of the entrance, a closed door at the end of it, and an archway leading deeper into the house directly across from the front door. The Striders took off their shoes and walked over, so Karkat did the same, leaving his backpack there, as well. Roxy poured them all drinks. 

“Finally; you guys were taking forever.” She sounded sleepy, but it was probably just the inebriation; he had heard something about that before, drunk people falling asleep in the weirdest of places, especially while fishing, their bodies falling head-first into the water. Roxy set the mixer down and offered him a glass, while the Striders claimed their own on their way past her. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come.” 

He took the glass hesitantly, still unsure whether starting to drink this early into the evening was a good idea to him, personally, due to the fact that he had never even tasted alcohol before. All of his angry distaste at it when discussing the matter with Dirk the other week had all been based on what other people thought of alcohol themselves, which very well aligned with his general bitterness toward virtually anything, so he had never thought to question it. He thanked her, and carried the glass deeper into the room, not touching it to his mouth just yet, the strong smell of it enough to make him think twice about it. The Striders both took seats on the floor, Dave by Egbert and Dirk with his back against the couch that Rose laid on, so Karkat joined him, cross-legged, his drink above the carpet. On the television, the music seemed to finally settle and play out without interruptions, some popish electronic playlist that varied from mainstream to something that he swore he had heard before somewhere, but probably hadn’t. The evening was beginning to come together. 

“Karkat.” 

And just like that, his heart skipped, head turning to glance at the Lalonde closest to him, her legs stretched out across two of the three seats of the couch, a frilly, black dress spread out over her knees. She watched him with an expression that he failed to read, a half-smirk on her face and a tall glass in her hand, drunk halfway through. Deliverer of harsh truths, huh? He braced himself for the worst. 

“You’re an ECE Major, aren’t you.” 

Oh, that wasn’t so bad. He nodded his response.

“And you know John from Math?” 

“Yeah.” 

If he didn’t look, then Dave wasn’t watching. His heart pounded fast in his chest. 

“Well, we had some other classes together, too, but Math was almost a constant.” Egbert added, his arm outstretched toward Roxy as she refilled his empty glass with a clear drink that Karkat hoped wasn’t straight vodka, even though it kind of definitely smelled like it. He kept both eyes trained on Egbert’s face all the while he talked, and Dave moved next to him, sipping on his own glass, aviators dancing around with his focus. Karkat barely blinked. 

“I had Math with him, too.” Dave said, and, okay, he had to look now, because if he didn’t, then it’d be reason for unwanted attention, the one thing that he was trying to avoid. On a side note, the snapback that Dave wore looked really good on him, black, red and gold; his iconic bangs poking out from underneath the black rim, brushed just so above the aviators, over his forehead, and, dammit, Karkat really wanted to try it on. Absently, he took the glass before himself and sipped from it, gingerly, careful to what the fuck it was that he was tasting, and surprised himself, because it was actually pretty good. Again, Dirk had been right, and he kind of hated him for it. 

“I think everybody has.” Roxy said, stirring her drink with a straw. “Karkat’s, like, the King of Math or something. He probably knows all of the nerds in AP.” 

“No, that’s not a thing, and I’m hardly the best qualified for that. I’m pretty sure Dirk knows a lot more about nerds than I’ll ever do.” 

He had no idea where all of those words had suddenly sprouted from, the one sip from his drink not nearly enough to have had that kind of power over him, even though his stomach was warm, and his throat burned. What left his mouth hadn’t been particularly embarrassing, however, so he supposed he’d roll with it, because half of this room seemed to already be tipsy, and that made the Strilondes a lot less intimidating to interact with, including Dave himself. Actually, that might’ve been it. He brought the glass to his own face and took another small sip from it. 

“Well, yeah, bro’s a nerd expert. We’ve been knowing that.” 

“Consequence from prolonged exposure to you, Dave. In a world of choice, that wasn’t one of them.” 

“Dare I say, Dirk is patient zero?” 

“Impossible; John Egbert’s been around for longer than I have.” 

Laughter, or, really, a round of controlled chuckling from the family, while Egbert looked offended, and, hold on a second. Was Egbert older than everyone in here? For the longest time, he thought that they had all been around the same age, because the Strilondes, all four of them, had enrolled in the same year that he had, thus the multiple marriage and double twin theories from the general population, but if they weren’t, then he didn’t get the joke. Promptly turning to Dirk, the furniture moved in his peripherals, and the people that escaped his sight were nonexistent for that moment. 

“How old are you?” The question escaped his lips before he could’ve caught it. 

“Twenty.” 

Okay, not too far off, then; one year younger than he was, though he kind of expected Dirk to have been far older, somehow. If they weren’t all the same age, then Dirk Strider being older would’ve made a lot more sense than the opposite, his height very misleading, and his genius even more evident now, squishing the last of Karkat’s confidence on himself. On a fleeting thought, though, he supposed that, perhaps,  _ Dirk _ was the average one, and  _ he _ was the actual idiot of the circus. He toasted to that by clinking his glass to Dirk’s and drinking to it. Already in Hell, he’d kiss the Devil on the mouth. A third, even less present thought had him believing Egbert and the others to have all been his age, Dirk simply an off-the-curve specimen that had skipped a year ahead of everybody else. True magic. 

The evening ran along in a pleasant sway of cherry soda and poison that burned going down and made his face tickle, his fingers tickle, eyes drooping in a very comfortable way as he sipped carefully on his drink, the world around him unstable, furniture shifting from place, friends coming and going, people talking all around him, but his loyal glass was always there, in a hand. Absently, and almost as second nature the further along they threaded into the evening, he drank and joined the others in artistry, Dave supplying them with blank sheets of paper and red pens galore to draw with, their abilities something to be shared with the world. Having never really drawn in his life, Karkat immediately had a billion ideas pouring out of his brain, and did his best to put them all down on paper before they forever dissipated from his mind, drink secured in one hand, the other tracing his thoughts. It wasn’t good, didn’t even scratch the surface of what he had really been going for, but, in comparison to the others, his art wasn’t all that far from everybody else’s. Sure, objectively, it  _ was _ the worst piece, but not by all that much; Roxy and Dave weren’t so far ahead of himself. In fact, he might even have placed Roxy’s work right there with his own, her shitty, wobbly lines not very glamorous. 

Once again, Dirk Strider was the only motherfucker who he refused to compare himself to, ever, in his entire life, with anything, because even his stupid, half-drunk drawings looked alright. Smart, handsome, apparently also a fucking artist, he only tied with Rose in that last department, both of their drawings just really, really nice for two drunk people. Karkat didn’t care for them, and turned his back on Strider, focusing on his own work instead, Dave’s an inspiration to draw from, and everything else about him just really charming, as well; his low voice, the ramblings, the mumblings, the fact that he barely ever stopped talking, and provided Karkat’s ears with soft, soothing music all evening long, beatboxing breaks here and there for a musical touch, and, actually, really good ones, too. He never thought that he’d ever have said that, but Dave Strider could beatbox, and well; not that embarrassing white boy shit. Hidden talents. He finished his drawing with a drop of alcohol spilt on it. 

As the night stretched ahead of them, and their number of refills started to all blend together, the humans grew into the funniest people that he knew, all laughing at each other at the first little excuse, and usually not at anything that had been said, but because of a funny face or some particularly weird antics; the wobbly walks to the bathroom, the clumsy movements around the living room, the bad dancing that they all seemed to share, except for Karkat, because there was not enough alcohol in the world that would’ve made him dance in front of Dave Strider in all of his life, rendering him on the couch for the most part, watching over the rim of his own glass, nursing yet another one of Roxy’s ivory and stardust specialties, while generally just snickering to himself. Admittedly, the name of the drink made no sense, but he didn’t question the hostess, and only accepted this new addition to his night as the others danced wildly in the living room and his own feet tapped. 

Dave dancing was… An experience to behold, really; hair whipping around to the music, bangs bouncing, his entire body moving in ways that Karkat would’ve never allowed himself to picture, but that now, he was sure, would poison his dreams for the entirety of the next month, though not that he was particularly worried about it. Dave’s drunk swaying, torso moving to the music, arms fluttering about himself and feet shuffling in time to the beat was something that Karkat had never seen, really, not in person, only on the internet, and he couldn’t believe just how people weren’t talking about this, weren’t talking about Dave’s dancing at all, but, instead, only gave a shit about Dirk. Like, sure, Dirk had actual moves going on, almost as if a choreography had been put together weeks before this event, but Dave was the real star of the show here, playing illusory tricks on a whole other level. On Karkat’s personal, and completely unbiased opinion, Dirk Strider was a try hard who got far too much attention than rightfully deserved, but whatever; he had always enjoyed the secret gems of life himself. 

“Who’s up for a round of Never Have I Ever?” Roxy shouted over the music the moment she was done pouring him another glass. “We haven’t played with Karkat yet.” 

Numerous approvals circled the room, Rose turning the music down a couple of notches for the game, the boys coming over to sit in a circle, each one with a glass or two that were placed directly in front of them. Whether this was a good idea or not didn’t occur to Karkat as he took a seat in the circle himself, his own full glass right ahead. Both girls took the last two places, and Roxy gave him an extra, empty glass that he didn’t think much of when he probably should have. It was fine. Off to his right, Dave looked disheveled; hair sticking up here and there, shirt wrinkled from all of the dancing, breathing heavy, cheeks tinged red from the exertion, and Karkat couldn’t stop staring, his own heart racing at the sight. Goddamn shit. 

“Karkat, you’re our guest, so you can start.” Roxy said, catching his attention and making his head whip around to stare at her lipstick, which was a lot fainter now, this far into the night, the rim of her glass colored a much brighter pink. 

He threw the circle a quick glance before starting, his eyes naturally falling onto Dave Strider despite himself. It was impossible; he wanted to gut himself alive. 

“Never have I ever gone to a party.” A cheap trick, just because he wanted to see them drink. 

A collective groan erupted in response to his sentence, accompanied by eye rolls and general displeasure before the five humans picked up their respective glasses and a bottle of flavored rum passed around for each to take a shot from. So this was how they played it, rules loosely jotted down. He couldn’t feel his own hands. 

“If that’s how you want to play, then be that way. I can do the same, look: never have I ever aced a math test.” Roxy grinned. 

Dirk reached across the circle for the bottle. 

“Why do you think I’m so smart?” He asked, the question spilling out without permission. “I’m actually kind of an idiot, dude.”

“But you  _ have _ gotten an A before.” Egbert swooped in to throw him under the bus. 

“Sure, but that’s not the point.” 

“Karkat, it’s the rules. Drink.” 

“Alright, fine.” 

Dirk passed him the bottle. Without any buffers, flavored rum was a lot more difficult to down than the cherry goodness that he had been drinking this whole time, but he managed not to make a face at it. At least, that was what the lack of reaction from his peers had him believe. 

“Never have I ever bunked with a family member.” 

Well, of course Egbert hadn’t, he was an only fucking child. More eye rolls, and the circle drank, comforting to know that even humans bunked with their siblings. Absently, he wondered if all four bunked together, and, on a separate thought, noticed just how much more painless it was to down a second shot. 

“Never have I ever been afraid of the dark.” Rose smirked. 

General hesitation, the crowd unsure whether to take the bottle or not, eager to see who would do it first. Completely unhinged, Karkat reached forward and took it, the first of a revolution. After him, the rest of the circle followed. Humans were just cattle without a shepherd. The third shot was never even felt by the walls of his throat, everything working smoothly now. He was invincible, unstoppable. 

“Never have I ever bought tickets to a Childish Gambino concert, because the date totally slipped my mind, and when I got to it, it was already sold out.” 

A round of looks, the easiest question to answer, not a single soul in that circle touching their glasses, their fleeting attention simply going from one face to the next, as if Dave hadn’t even spoken at all. In his defense, Karkat hung onto every word, even if he wasn’t very sure just what it was that they meant together, something about Dave’s face just very, very entrancing. It was the entirety of it. 

“Never have I ever simply accepted the principles of quantum mechanics with no thought or question to them whatsoever, because, as a citizen, that would’ve been simply irresponsible of me.” 

“Ugh, you suck.”

“Every fucking time.” 

A round of drinks, and rum tasted of apple slices. 

Alright, his turn again, and his eyes still couldn’t leave Dave’s face, the frames of the aviators that watched him in silence, that reflected a distorted version of himself on the lenses, light hair colored blue under the television glow, and Karkat wished they had been sitting closer, without Dirk in between. A fleeting impulse that was quickly cut sharp with images of the Kappa Sig party, the glitter, the unicorn tiaras, and Dave posing for innocent pictures in between shots of searching for somebody else. He squinted, the fuel in his stomach suddenly burning hot, glad that Dirk was there to separate them. 

“Never have I ever hooked up at a party.” 

Dave Strider didn’t move. The bottle passed all around the circle, the girls each downing their respective shots, even Egbert having his fair share, and, then, Dave. He took the bottle and placed it back in the dead center of the circle, ready for the next challenge, neither one of the Striders toasting to that one. Fucked up, absolutely not true, but interesting enough to make him scoff. Dave Strider was cheating. 

“You’re cheating.” He blurted out, having the entire group turn to look at him again. 

“Me? Dude, I’m not.” 

“Both of you, really?” 

“Dave’s a total virgin.” Roxy commented from the sidelines, promptly setting his heart off, face heating up, and that couldn’t have been true, no way. No way. What? Karkat stared hard at the side of her face, eyes wide, frozen in place. No fucking way. Roxy hiccupped. “And D’s a lost cause.” 

D? She called him D, really? That was absolutely the worst possible nickname for one of the two near-identical brothers whose first names both started with the same fucking letter, but, hey, why the fuck not, right? This whole night was already too idiotic to not add that into the mix. D. Strider, huh; literally could’ve been anyone at this point. Even  _ he _ would’ve answered to D. Strider after these many shots, to be honest. Fuck. 

“Never have I ever gotten off to someone I know.” Roxy continued, a wide grin on her face, and he had to literally, physically stop himself from looking directly at Dave Strider again, this time for real. This time, as a matter of life and death, because fuck this question, actually. Like, really, fuck this one. 

Breathing in sharp, he managed a general glance around the circle instead, his shoulders horribly tense, heart hammering hard against his rib cage, eyes skipping Dave’s face on purpose. Stillness in the room, five cowards sitting on the ground, all looking at each other, trying to read one another, the fear of being the first and only to admit to it all-consuming. Karkat did  _ not _ have the necessary gut to face this one, not with Dave Strider right the fuck there, and, instead, opted to glance from Dirk to Egbert and back, the other two doing the exact same to him, the pointy shades that turned from face to face giving Strider away. A heartbeat, two, and Dirk threw Roxy a glance. 

“You’re bluffing.” 

She smirked, head cocking to the side. 

“Am I? Am I really, D? Because I think I’m perfectly capable of never having done that in my entire life, never having  _ needed _ to.” 

Silence, Strider staring hard at her, shades unmoving on the bridge of his nose. A moment of complete silence, and Egbert reached for the bottle himself, eyes cast down as he poured the shot. What a fucking hero. He passed it over to Rose, who passed it to Dave, who filled up his empty glass, and, yeah, you know what? Yes. A good, honest answer that had Karkat bonding with him one-sidedly, because of  _ course _ he had done that, too; of course. Attraction was a curse and not even the holiest virgin of them all could’ve run from it, even though that concept was still very difficult to grasp. Dirk poured himself a shot, and so Karkat reached his own glass to the guy, getting a refill as well. A silent, shameful toast to the men in the room. 

“Never have I ever rebounded within twenty-four hours of a breakup.” Egbert suddenly spit out, and, wow, alright. Suspiciously specific stuff going on here now, his eyes still down at his own empty glass, while the rest of the room stared across the circle at Roxy, her posture growing tense, her back straighter and rigid. What was happening? She took the rum for herself and downed a shot from it, an eye roll coming right after, and what was this tension in the air? Karkat squinted at the two of them as Rose cleared her throat. 

“Never have I ever been with a man.” 

Alright, he supposed they were moving on already, then, without a single comment at that one. Okay, sure, never been with a man; that was the kind of confession that he had been expecting from the very beginning of this game, really, just not from Rose exactly, though he couldn’t well say that it didn’t explain a fair amount about her. Roxy had her own fill first, then passed the bottle straight across the circle to her cousin, both Egbert and Dave sanctioned out of this one, which really wasn’t surprising, but that still kind of broke his heart a little. Any and every confirmation of Dave Strider’s heterosexuality was still painful to swallow, another brick to the wall that separated the two of them. He tried not to think much of it, or of the fact that Dirk filled his cup without him asking this time around. His heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t drink out of it. On a tangential thought, learning about Dirk Strider himself didn’t feel very outrageous, either. Actually, no, it kind of explained everything. 

“Never have I ever dreamed that Barack Obama gave me life advice.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Dirk asked, a slur to his speech that made him sound far southern than he really was. 

“Yes, it was financial advice; guy’s an economics genius.” 

Again, no one drank. Thankfully, the comedic relief had the atmosphere from the last few rounds clearing out a little, though not enough to make the air that hung between Egbert and Roxy any lighter. If Karkat had just a handful of brain cells more, he’d have tried to get to the bottom of right now, but, as it was, all he could do was sip from his cherry glass while ominously glaring at the two humans instead. That definitely didn’t look weird. 

“Never have I ever willingly listened to a single Taylor Swift song.” 

“That’s absolutely not true.” Roxy countered. “You’re in love with her.” 

“No, you’re thinking of Lady Gaga. Those are two completely different white women.” 

A round of drinks and eye rolls. 

His turn again, and he was faced with the choice to continue the clownery that nobody gave a shit about, or get into the nitty gritty of everyone’s unresolved romances and past traumas. Evidently, staring straight into Dave Strider’s Ray-Bans, he chose the latter. 

“Never have I ever been in a relationship.” 

Silence, and Dirk Strider poured himself a glass before passing the bottle over to his cousin, who also filled Egbert up. At this point, not a huge surprise, though learning about Dave made him feel just that little bit more relieved. 

“Never have I ever  _ not _ slept with a best friend.” 

Wait, those were too many negatives in one sentence, he needed a second to reason it out, hold on. If the last negative weren’t there, then it would’ve meant that she had never slept with a best friend, but since it  _ was _ there, then it meant that she had  _ only _ slept with best friends? Karkat scowled, a vein in his head pulsing, his entire skull beginning to ache. One more cherry sip to numb that out, and his eyes fell on Egbert, on the way that he stared at the side of Roxy’s face, her whole straight-backed posture obviously her best act of ignoring him, or pretending not to notice. Did these two use to have a thing? Karkat had never heard anything from Egbert before, but, also, he hadn’t really asked. Turning to glance at Dave next, and where the bottle was, he saw it in Rose’s possession, before she placed it back in the center of the circle. So that meant Rose had slept with a non-best friend, right? And Dirk had only slept with best friends before? Goddammit, this was too much. Dave was a virgin and that was all that he really knew. Allegedly. 

“Never have I ever lost a friend?” Phrased as a question, Egbert directed the words to Roxy, who nodded in reply, a small smile on her face. Cute, so they were still friends after this whole whatever situation had started and ended between them, Karkat guessed. Was that why Egbert didn’t want to party with the Strilondes that one time? Maybe. He didn’t even know when the breakup had happened, or even if it was still fresh or not, but, judging by tonight’s turns, he supposed that yes, it must’ve been relatively fresh. 

In his peripheral, Dirk moved. 

“I’m done with this fucking game.” He said on his way up, feet losing balance with his endeavors and nearly stepping on Karkat’s leg as he went, lightly kicking it instead. Karkat promptly flinched away at the touch, as a sort of primitive gut-reaction to being this close to any part of Dirk Strider’s body, and watched the guy stumble out of the living room toward the one archway directly across from the entrance door, which clearly led further into the house. Collectively, the circle sighed, moving to stand up themselves. 

“Dammit, he’s in that mood again.” 

“Yeah, no shit; you guys couldn’t shut up about relationships all night.” 

“That’s what this game is for, Dave. He just takes it too personally every single time.” 

“Maybe because it is personal? I don’t see you judging John for that love letter just now.” 

Oh, love letter? Perhaps Karkat had misread the entire exchange between the two. He had absolutely no idea at this point, the world too blurry all around, Dave’s face softly airbrushed to make prominent features, like where his forehead ended and his bangs began, indistinguishable. Within the haze, the sisters were practically the same one person. 

“Because John’s not acting like a fucking baby about it.” 

“Guys, your fight has no discernible fruits; nothing’s going to come out of it.” Rose interjected, the slurring of her speech mostly controlled as she stepped in between her sister and her cousin, eyelids drooping halfway over violet, palms up to hover just in front of their chests. “I think we need a plan to cheer him up, not to take each other down, alright?” 

“He probably just needs a friend right now.” Egbert suggested, voice small, and Karkat wasn’t sure who he had just addressed. 

“John, he’s got enough of those. I mean, look at all of us.” Roxy cut in, a hand up to completely dismiss his opinion, a sort of confidence in her face that Karkat had never seen this uncontested, this adamant; she clearly possessed some sort of arcane knowledge that nobody else here did, the condescending rise of her brow an allusion to infinite wisdom. It was kind of fascinating to watch, gave his heart a skip from anticipation. “He just needs to get laid.” 

Oh. So that was the final verdict, huh. 

Karkat blinked. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He asked very suddenly, causing all four human heads to turn in his direction, and a low, wide smirk slowly cut across Roxy’s entire face. That couldn’t have been good; he had no idea what kind of horrible thought his question had made cross her mind, but he didn’t need to know the specifics to not trust it. A shiver ran up his spine to confirm his suspicions, a voice in his head screaming for him to take that last second back somehow, to undo whatever deep-rooted evil it had unleashed within the inner workings of Roxy’s venomous mind, but he was too late. 

“And here’s our volunteer.” Spoken around a malicious smirk that turned his blood into ice. “How about we play Seven Minutes In Heaven next?” 

His heart raced for a wholly different reason now, eyes growing big on his face, the alcohol in his system breaking down every single wall that separated his emotions from being openly displayed for everyone to see. Being here like this was extremely dangerous, and not a single pair of eyes strayed from his face, drinking up his visible earth-shattering fear. He swallowed thick. 

“I--”

“We’ll use their room as a makeshift closet.” Rose announced over him, nodding at the closed door on the right end of the living room. “We can start with me while you guys bring Dirk down.” 

“Perfect.” 

Violet eyes set themselves on his face next, a shudder immediately washing over him, Rose approaching to take his arm in hands that never actually touched his person, but pulled him along either way. He couldn’t feel anything. 

“Come on, Karkat; I’ve got a lot to tell you.” 


	3. Seven minutes in Heaven

The door at the end of the room, he soon learned, led to the Striders’ shared bedroom, two single beds pushed apart by two identical bedside tables and a rug. On the walls, shelves and posters, the left side decorated with rap artists and Polaroid pictures, while the right side exhibited horse posters and robots, making it very distinct where each of the brothers slept. In a corner, a wooden desk cluttered with spare parts and half-built machines that clearly didn’t work, slumped over themselves and pushed into piles; in the opposite corner, a closet, half-open, with jackets and shirts spilling out from its drawers and hangers. Hovering in the air, the scent of pine leaves and dust, reminding him of summer camp and his mother’s car; familiar, yet not exactly comforting. By the door, a single floor lamp that bent overhead toward Dirk’s desk, the only source of light in the room tonight, giving the furniture a soft yellow glow, the sequins of Rose’s dress sparkling as she walked to the desk.

She took the only chair around, sitting cross-legged and elegant, her half-lidded violets focused entirely on his face, her clear skin and light hair tinted orange by the lamp. In contrast, Karkat just kind of stood awkwardly by the now-closed door instead of acting normal, shaky hands curled into fists, the walls slowly approaching from every side and cutting the size of the room into a quarter, incredibly hard to breathe in here, lungs fighting for air. It really wasn’t fine.

“I noticed you’ve never been romantically involved with anyone.” She began, voice low, almost too quiet to hear over the hammering of his own heart. “Why is that? Are you afraid of rejection?”

Oh, shit.

“Who isn’t?” He shrugged to attempt nonchalance, but probably just ended up looking very weird and tense instead, which was how that felt on his shoulders. If he had actually succeeded or not, however, Rose’s reaction to it was nonexistent; she merely blinked, eyes glassy and dazed.

“Even with the skewed clarity and confidence that alcohol brings?”

“No, it’s…” He shook his head, the world swimming right before his eyes, nauseating. He shut them closed. “It’s not about that; it’s about what happens next.”

She hummed.

“I’m surprised you factor in the following day when most of us don’t, but what makes you believe that the other party isn’t just as inebriated? Sometimes, what happens in the dark doesn’t necessarily have to see the light of day. Within the inebriation of two, you can act a fool all you want, because chances are your partner is doing the exact same, thinking you the wise one in the room, as well. In a jungle full of monkeys, why worry about the owls? If rejection occurs, no one will remember it. Trust me, it’s not as remarkable as it seems. In fact, I’d say it’s even commonplace.”

“Are you telling me to risk it?”

“I’m only telling you that if you do, you wouldn’t be the first, and you certainly won’t be the last; that’s just how good business is done, how friends are made, and how one’s goals are met. How long have you been studying with Dirk?”

“Since I enrolled.”

“And that’s how long he’s known you, too; everything is a two-way street.”

He wasn’t sure what that last part meant, and didn’t pay too much mind to it, still hung up on all of her arguments in favor of just risking it all; coming up to Dave Strider and straight up planting a kiss on his mouth. God, the thought alone was enough to make him hyperventilate, his heart stuck halfway up his throat, choking him where he stood. Kissing Dave, holy shit, no; he could’ve never done something like that, not in his entire goddamn life, regardless of how much alcohol coursed his veins or if either one of them would’ve even remembered the fact the next day. It was far too stressful to think about, both outcomes horrible in their own particular ways, whether Dave remembered it and chided him for it, made him fatally embarrassed of himself, or, worse, if Dave didn’t remember, and he had to spend the rest of his days pretending that it had never happened, innocently hanging around Dave with the knowledge of how his lips felt like pressed against his own. Oh, God, he was about to pass the fuck out.

“I can’t do it, Rose; it’s too much.”

“What is?”

“Just, everything. The whole prospect of anything; just trying it, even. I can’t imagine it.”

“Then, don’t. Why do you think masquerades exist, and why they’re so wildly popular among singletons who are too afraid to confess? It’s so they don’t have to. In this day and age, alcohol and narcotics in general are our masks, the one excuse we have to not get ourselves hurt. Yes, I kissed you; does it mean that I like you? Well, it depends; do you like _me?_ Oh, no? Then that’s all good, darling, because I’m far too inebriated to really even tell you apart from your siblings, and what’s transpired between us really only meant nothing to me. Would you be interested in taking it further, however? Yes, no; both are just as fine. Karkat, under the influence, you don’t have to be yourself, because nobody is being themselves, either. Fear is simply psychological.”

He shook his head, heart slowing down.

“Doesn’t sound like you’ve ever been rejected, Rose.”

“Oh, but I have, multiple times, even. Truth is, you get over it, because others would do just as well.”

“No, no; you haven’t seen rejection by the one who _matters,_ Rose. You know they’re all the same, except the one who isn’t.”

“Well, I believe that’s only a matter of perspective.”

“No, it isn’t, dammit; you know what I’m talking about. That one person you can’t get off your mind despite how hard you try, the one who keeps getting in the way of every single day, the one who seems to always fucking be there when all you want is peace. I’m talking about _that_ person, the one who makes rejection absolutely fatal.”

As he talked, the violets that watched him slowly widened to about twice their size, the blonde brows that rested above them rising to Rose’s hairline, a sparkle in her eye, mouth parting to shape an O and make his blood run cold on the spot. This couldn’t have been good, and she must not have caught what he meant at all.

“You’re in love with him.” She whispered, faint out of shock, and he wanted to fucking kill himself, because she _did_ get what he meant, exactly that and a whole lot more, too, apparently, and, just, fuck! Fuck! This had gone too far, and he needed to abort it immediately, not one more word in his mouth, not one more vital secret exposed; with his heart hammering hard against his ribs, shaking his entire body where he stood, he grabbed the knob and violently swung the door open, his face focused on Rose’s own, eyes blown wide out of their own sockets, threatening to jump out at any moment. He could barely fucking breathe.

“Get out; time’s up.”

It wasn’t, it really wasn’t, but she got up anyway, moving slowly, carefully, a different look on her face now, as shock began to dissipate from her system, slowly, diluted with the passage of time, but not one that he could read. She walked over to the door, and, one second before leaving the room, flashed him the most knowing glance that had ever cut him right through, a smirk to accompany it, and he wanted to slam the door in her face. Very presumptuous; it made his blood boil, while, at the same time, burn his face for an entirely different reason. Shit. Turning from the door, he tried not to think about that, about anything that had just happened, his head beginning to pound. She couldn’t have known who he meant, she couldn’t have, it was impossible; he hadn’t said anything _that_ incriminating. Surely, she had only been fucking with him, deliberately choosing to use a male pronoun just to gauge his reaction to it, which, admittedly, he had fallen victim to in kind of the perfect way, but whatever; it didn’t change anything. She still didn’t know, and _couldn’t_ know, despite her snarky little looks and stupid mind games. Fuck Rose. He brought a hand up to chew on his claws, and, again, to reiterate, fuck Rose. She didn’t know anything.

A second later, Roxy walked into the room next, pink eyes big and wild as she shut the door behind herself. He dropped his hand.

“Alright, he’s the rundown on D; he’s never been with a troll before, he’s very shy about this sort of stuff, he’s hard to approach and impossible to flirt with, but I don’t think you’ll have a very tough time with that, because you already know him. He’s the master of dodging hints and pretending to be obtuse, but, trust me, you’re getting through to him. He’s hard to crack, but just be patient. Do you have any questions?”

She spoke so fast that he had trouble following; the complete assault of words that came out of her mouth gave him whiplash, made him shake his head and blink his eyes open. Pause and rewind, holy shit; the world spun fast behind his retinas, far too blurred at the edges of his vision for that kind of bullshit right now. He needed a tall glass of water after this.

“Yes, actually, I do. What’s going on? Why are you talking about Dirk?”

“I mean any _real_ questions. Oh, shit, wait; are you a bottom?”

Immediately, his eyes quadrupled in size, heart leaping up to punch him in the throat, face hot enough to melt his skin right off his bones. He was about to have a fucking stroke, what? What the fuck?

“What? What the fuck?”

“Oh, God, you are. Okay, look, topping isn’t hard; I’ll send John in after me so he can talk to you about that--”

Wait, _John?!_ What! John?

“--but did you understand what I said about the obliviousness? Because it’s all fake and he _is_ listening to you, you just have to keep trying.”

“Roxy, Roxy, just, Jesus Christ, hold on. Hold on. What? What, what does it matter? What are you talking about, I, John? I mean, Roxy--”

“Look, he’s not the best, but at least he’s done it before, and I take it you haven’t, but, hey, prove me wrong. I’d love to know it.”

“John? John… Dirk? What--”

“God, no, honey; you’ve got it all backwards. In John’s own words, he’s not a homosexual. Listen, Dirk--”

“No! No, you and John? What does Dirk have to do with that?”

“Absolutely nothing. I’m here to aid you in your quest.”

“What… Quest?”

“Of sleeping with my cousin. I know all about you two; twice a week, he tells me just enough to connect the dots, and, after tonight, I really understand what’s going on between you guys. I mean, the way you can’t stop looking at him? The questions to dig up dirt on his love life? Harsh, the mark of a conqueror, and I don’t fault you for that; all is fair when it comes to D. Strider, and I love the way you play the game. In fact, I think more people should be as bold and relentless as you are.”

“Huh?”

Oh my god, this was all ass backwards.

“I’m not sleeping with your cousin.” He damn near shouted, face burning, heart at the bottom of his throat, one beat away from being vomited right out. God, he needed a window open, or a fan on, or something; he was dying in here, dying! Roxy shoved him on the chest, made him stumble back a step, and the ceiling above twirled.

“Shut up, Karkat; he’s just outside! Look, stop freaking out, you can do this, man. Listen, you’re both drunk, he’s really upset, and you’ve been flirting for, like, two months! Honey, it’s time!”

“Flirting? We haven’t been flirting. I’ve never flirted in my life!”

“Karkat, keep your fucking voice down.”

“Dude, I’d rather be shot dead by a stray bullet than _ever_ make a pass on Dirk Strider. What don’t you understand about that?”

“Oh, no; don’t you chicken out right now, not this far into the game. Jesus, Karkat, _you_ asked _him_ out tonight, he brought you over, you’re _in his room,_ so why are you giving up _now?_ This is the worst time for that!”

“Wait, is that what he told you? Is that what he said happened?”

“No, goddammit, I’m an interpreter. You _have_ to be one when talking to him, because you know he speaks in code, and, look, I’ve simply translated what all of your little philosophies mean.” A frustrated sigh, and her voice became a lot softer after it. “Baby, it’s okay; I’m on your side here, and I endorse you completely. If anything, Karkat, I think you _should_ fuck my cousin tonight.”

“Jesus Christ, Roxy, I’m not doing that!”

“Hey, hey, don’t be nervous; he’s really not all that talk, and, at this point, I’m pretty sure you know that. You’ll do just fine.” She opened the door, stepped out, and pulled it so only her face remained in the room, looking back at him, two bright pinks that gave him mesothelioma. “Obviously, you’ll have all the time you need in Heaven.” A wink, and she was gone.

Man, this was a huge mess. Not even in his wildest imaginations could he have ever pictured himself approaching Dirk Strider like that, much less getting a foot of the way in without either punching himself out of it or having Dirk do that for him. At this point, however, both outcomes were highly appreciated. How did Roxy misread their friendship so badly? He couldn’t have been staring at Dirk the way that she had said; not all night, anyway, and, if anything, he had been staring at _Dave_ this whole time, only looking at his brother as a decoy to hide the fact. Well, alright, he supposed that that could’ve been misinterpreted as staring at Dirk instead, fine, but he in no way had asked Dirk out here tonight. No, _Dirk_ had invited him over, and they had never made this seem more than just a regular ass hang out. Right? Dirk knew that he had no intention to take this anywhere… Right? Oh my God, what if he didn’t? What if Dirk was also in on this? He was going to fucking vomit; he needed to call this off right now, and tell everyone that he could _never_ think of Strider as anything other than Dave’s socially weird and incredibly smart younger brother. That was it.

Reaching for the knob to let himself out, it opened before he could, and, instead of Egbert being shoved in here with him, it was Dirk himself. The sight had him freezing right where he stood, eyes wide and not a single breath in his lungs. Why the fuck wasn’t Egbert in here instead? She had said that she would’ve sent him in next, dammit, and, even if it was for highly doubtable content, at least he would’ve had some sort of buffer before, before, well, _this._ He swallowed, watching Dirk walk in, have the door magically close behind himself, and then promptly curve him toward the innards of the room. Jesus, Dirk curved him so close that he took a step back out of complete instinct to avoid him, every noodle in his brain scrambling in the process.

Instead of literally anything happening to make this night irreversibly worse, though, Dirk just stepped over to his own bed and fell face-first onto the mattress, the spikes of his hair bouncing once but ultimately remaining up in the air, their anti-gravity pull very, very strong. Karkat blinked in the silence, his heart beating way up in his throat, pulse loud enough to ring on his ears. What was going on? What was he supposed to do next? He thought that Dirk would’ve been reacting in a much more, uh, eh, _different_ way than altogether avoiding the elephant in the room, his very practical manner and hands-on attitude making Karkat believe that, by now, his face should’ve already experienced the outer layer of Hell. There was something missing, and he didn’t know the rules to this game.

“Hey.” He tried, hands shaking, giving it his best to make his voice sound level and cool, but probably failing miserably at it; he didn’t know, couldn’t really hear himself over his own nerves, and Dirk’s lack of response didn’t help, either. “Hey, where’s Egbert?”

Slowly, Dirk moved to lay on his back instead, his porcelain face directed up at the ceiling now, and, with that, an image came to mind, something so horrible that he had to shut his eyes and physically turn away, heart hammering, fire enveloping his entire body, because if Dirk was a bottom, then, goddammit. Goddammit, he wanted to jump out the window and get run over. He wasn’t doing this, he was _not_ doing this, oh my God. God! He breathed in deep, steady breaths, trying not to picture it, the two of them together. Bile and alcohol churned in his stomach, but didn’t come up. He was fine.

“John wants to be the last one in.”

Alright, motherfucker; Mr. I’m Not A Homosexual, what was he so afraid of, huh? Having an awkward conversation? Oh, boo fucking hoo, bitch; Karkat was one breath away from screaming his lungs out and Egbert here, Mr. Heterosexuality, everyone, was too afraid to teach him how to top like a run over tomato that wasn’t even good for sauce. Boo hoo, boo hoo! He was going to pass out. Breathing in deep, he leaned a hand on the foot of the bed closest to him, moving slowly to sit on it, half of his ass not even on the mattress because touching Dave Strider’s belongings felt sacrilegious, but he didn’t want to be even an inch closer to Dirk than all the way across the room right now. With both eyes shut, and not a single word in his mouth, he breathed. It was going to be okay; Dirk wasn’t doing anything, and he wasn’t expected to do anything, either. At least, he hoped so. The fact that Dirk was currently laying on his bed only meant that he was chilling, not waiting for anything to happen, or looking forward to his initiative. He breathed.

He wished it was Dave’s turn, and the thought brought him peace; Dave sitting on his brother’s bed instead, facing him across the room, nothing in the air, no expectations, not a single assumption of tonight’s course. No remote chance that anything would’ve ever happened between them, either, and he was fine with that; nothing had to be awkward, and Dave didn’t have to think anything about him. Two guys, chilling.

“Karkat.” Spoken suddenly, breaking the silence and gathering his attention, making him open his eyes to stare ahead. Dirk had never addressed him by his first name before, and it felt, well, it was weird to hear it; like a grim reminder that he had been threading too close to this bundle of humans and all that they came with, willingly standing within range of dangerous debris for absolutely no reason other than that to exist near Dave Strider for a brief moment in time, as if bread crumbs were enough to survive on. It made him rethink the entirety of the last two months. Dirk’s head rolled a degree to the side, and the pointy shades glanced at him. “I’m sorry for the clownery; tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

He scowled.

“What do you mean?”

Still on the bed, Dirk half-shrugged.

“We were supposed to have fun and go wild, you know? Not the opposite of that. I want to be out in the backyard right now, building a life-size mech out of sticks and wiring it with water-proof material to have it transform into a boat by the end of the night, but here I am, in my room, as a pawn in my cousin’s pathetic game to set me up. It’s ridiculous. You’re not the first.”

Heart rate slowing down, longer breaths leaving his lungs, and Dirk also didn’t want to do this. He sat up straighter, easier to breathe now, the fog in his head clearer, because they were on the exact same page here, holy shit. Even while hammered on at least three different types of distilled alcohol, Dirk still just wanted to build his stupid robots and be a huge fucking nerd! Karkat never thought that he would’ve ever said this, but, dammit, Dirk was valid. Not wanting to sleep with him was absolutely fucking valid, and he respected Dirk Strider for that; the guy just wanted to make a waterproof robot, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. He supposed that being a nerd really was Dirk’s true self, the one personality trait that lived deep, deep within. He got up again, no longer touching Dave’s bed, and, catching a glance of the tree out the window, tire swing moving with the breeze, he spoke; Dirk’s chess analogy fully lost on his pedestrian brain.

“Then why don’t you just… Go? This is the first floor. I’ll follow you out the window.”

Dirk shook his head, pointy shades up at the ceiling again.

“That’s not the point. You’re chill; I just steered the night in the wrong direction here, did what I said I wouldn’t do, and it’s fine. It sucks, but it’s fine.” Smooth voice low, Dirk moved up to a sitting position, shades squared onto his face. “Want to experience transcendence?”

The question was so out of nowhere that his pulse skipped, eyes squinting.

“Depends what you mean.”

Sitting quietly on the edge of the mattress, Dirk stretched and reached into a pocket to fish out his phone, his dark clothes glowing in a golden aura as he moved, the exposed portions of his legs and arms seeming incandescent under the light. Despite his height and the general air of intimidation that always seemed to hang about him, right now, he looked small; the kid behind the machine exposed, the front that he used with the outside world put aside for a moment. Dirk Strider was just a child hiding behind a manufactured carapace to face the adults that surrounded him, and even if they were only a year apart, and Dirk was objectively a lot more book smart than he was, at the end of the day, Dirk still had been thrown into a college campus full of adults at seventeen. At that age, Karkat only had to worry about getting his homework done. In a much bigger scale of things, though, he supposed that he wasn’t exactly fair game to compare to a white human male such as Dirk Strider, but, still; in that one aspect, the comparison worked.

Very softly, music began to flow from the speaker on Dirk’s desk, in a crescendo of synthetic beats that undulated in a careful pattern, higher pitched sounds coming in later to complement them, with no lyrics, or any kind of vocals; only electronics, a song that he could very vividly picture people dancing to, and that must’ve played at a club before. It was kind of perfect for that, and exactly the type of music that a Strider would’ve been into, which said more about Strider than himself. In their contemplation, the room quiet save for the music, his shoulders dropped; breath finding him easily as he stood by Dave’s bed, watching Dirk without a word to chaperone that, his own reflection on pointy shades. Finally, two guys chilling. It was soothing in a very particular way, the fact that they were two sides of the one same coin, and he didn’t have to worry about any of those bizarre notions that Roxy had put into his head earlier. In a brief revelation, he noticed that they had a lot more in common than just enjoying men, but decided against pursuing that train of thought for too long, kind of terrifying.

When the song ended, a brow surfaced from behind the sharp rims of Dirk’s shades, the next in queue beginning to play in succession.

“So, what do you think?”

He shrugged.

“It’s cool.” Sure, it was, but, also, it had Strider written all over, and wasn’t what he had been expecting out of the word “transcendence” at all. Clearly, his first thought to that had been a combination of sex and drugs, but, because the answer had culminated into music instead, he supposed that any genre would’ve been a let down. There really wasn’t a healthy or even welcome way to surpass his first instincts on this one, and a song that might as well have been composed by the man himself with how well it represented him would’ve never made the cut. Wait, hold on, had that been it? Was that what had just happened, and why Dirk cared to know his opinion in the first place? What?

“Did you make this?”

“Yeah, just finished it yesterday; been thinking about playing it at the Styx tomorrow. Are you going, by the way?”

Oh, shit, so Strider really _was_ a DJ, wow. Alright; for the longest time, he thought that this little act was just one of Dirk's many ways to cultivate popularity, right alongside his famous dancing techniques and overall appearance, with no fault, at all of these thoroughly covered events, but, again, for the fifth time this week, he guessed that he had been wrong about Strider. Maybe the whole incessant drinking and partying really was just what these guys were about; hanging out, having a good time, and making enough friends to get themselves elected into office one day. It wasn’t necessarily bad, either, just difficult to wrap his head around, when the image that he had of the Strilondes was a lot shallower and worse than that. With the way that people so deeply dehumanized them and placed them onto plinths as deities instead of regular college students, it was difficult to imagine that any of what they did was genuine, rather than a tool to preserve their manufactured image. Fabricated gods and all of that.

As for the Styx, well, he wasn’t sure about it; he had never been, evidently, but that party was famous enough to have itself known throughout the entirety of the campus, regardless of who had or hadn’t attended that semester. Costume parties were always very much talked about, what with the attendees wanting to show off their own makings as well as their expensive purchases, so pictures of it were always roaming everywhere until the next one, and because he knew that Dave’s costume for it usually involved some combination of Greek-style robes, fake horns and body glitter, he had been tracking the event for five semesters in a row now. The interest was clearly there, but he still wasn’t sure about the bravery to face such a huge crowd like that, especially if that meant hanging around Dave with so much skin exposed and horns on his head. God, the horns; he had no idea why that was so infatuating to think about, but the pair, night black, growing out of his forehead and passing through the blonde locks of his hair, ugh, dammit; he couldn't do this. No.

“I don’t know, Dirk; I don’t really have a costume.”

“Well, if that’s all it is, then we can dress you up in under fifteen minutes with the amount of stuff we’ve got in Roxy’s closet, but if the cold feet originates from a deeper source, Vantas, I’m not sure a tunic and a wreath can fix it.”

His heart skipped, wind escaping his lungs for a second.

"I just don't know if I'm ready for such a big crowd. You know I don't do this shit often."

"Listen, you'll be coming with us, man; it's not like you'll be alone there. Anytime you wanna bounce, we all bounce, dude. It's just a party, not a commitment, alright?"

He shrugged in response, a hand running through his hair as the image of Dave Strider's exposed neck and arms sparkling with glitter consumed his brain and swallowed up his retinas; black robes hanging from Dave's elbows and shoulders, black petals on his collar, gray glitter a contrast to the tan of his skin, black horns that completely changed the game... His pulse skipped, eyes squeezing shut. Fuck.

"No, dude, I don't know; I, I want this more than anything."

"Then come with us. Stay the night, spend tomorrow, and we'll all go to the Styx together." Dirk spoke in a factual tone that ended the discussion right there, the shuffling of sheets and clothes indicating that he hopped off the bed. Karkat opened his eyes to see him pocket his phone and walk to the door, cutting off the music as he went. "You'll never want to miss another one, bro. Mark my words."

With that, Strider left, his shadow the only one in the room now, darkening the closet doors behind himself. The game was over, he supposed, if all it had been was a ploy to get the both of them to, uh, ruin their friendship, then he supposed it was time to leave, too. Reaching for the ajar door, it opened further before he could've taken the knob, Dave motherfucking Strider suddenly materializing before him, making him literally backtrack three steps, heart beating out of his mouth now, eyes feeling to have grown three sizes out of his own head. He would've screamed if he hadn't been so mortally paralyzed, which, he guessed, ended up being for the best. In absolute silence, he watched Dave shut the door behind himself, designer shades trained on his face the entire time. He couldn't fucking breathe.

"So, how was it?"

He blinked, Dave’s voice an echo in the emptiness of his skull, the walls that surrounded them growing closer to box them in, the wooden frame of Dave's bed brushing him on the back of the knee, the three-foot distance between them far too small. He had absolutely no idea what Dave had just said, but something inside of him wanted to get pushed down; make him trip on the bed frame and fall on the mattress, Dave’s hands doing the pushing, Dave’s body following him suit. He blinked.

“What?”

“How did it go with bro just now? Did you make out?”

Oh, God, those words in Dave’s voice, the way that they shaped his lips into a perfect pucker, the fact that they were so close right now that Karkat could’ve just leaned forward and met with his face without having to take another step. How would it have felt like, to have Dave’s mouth on his own? His heart jumped out of his throat. In the air, apples and roses overwhelmed him, both drenched in cherry as constant reminders that the masks were on and anything went tonight, blamed on the alcohol. Dave’s sexuality woud’ve remained secured regardless, a secret to keep, not that anyone would’ve cared to even know it; cats in the dark. Who had never given into an impulse when half out of their own minds? Who would really have been to blame? Dave would probably even have kissed him back.

Holy shit, he was going to faint. No, no, no; purer thoughts, less enticing, less yearning for the warmth of Dave’s body and more respecting his alleged sexuality. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deep, forcing himself to answer at least one of Dave’s fucking questions. Come on, the guy was waiting.

"Look, it didn’t go, it didn’t even come; nothing happened. I don’t like your brother that way."

Silence, and he opened his eyes again, the eyebrows that poked from underneath Ray-Bans greeting him in a light scowl, Dave’s head cocked minutely to the side in his confusion, and it was the cutest fucking thing that Karkat had ever seen in his entire goddamn life. He wanted to reach up and grab Dave’s face and squeeze his cheeks and shake his head with how adorable he was, his little portrayal far different than how his brother and cousins did it. This was on a whole other level here, and Karkat had to close his hands in fists to keep them away. Dave was an experience.

"Really? I thought…" A pause, and he could stare at the little tilt of the head for a second longer, Dave clearly still processing the fact that he had no interest in pursuing his brother for any reason whatsoever. Who even would, when Dave Strider existed? Like, not to throw Dirk under the bus or anything, but, he meant, really, who would. Who would. "I guess I was wrong. I don't know; I have this idea in my head that all trolls are bisexual. I'm sorry, that's really racist. Uh, xenophobic, actually, right?"

A deep sigh filled his lungs, but he did _not_ let it come out, not for the life of him. Sighing, at a moment like this, right in front of Dave fucking Strider, just because the guy was capable of apologizing and assessing his prejudices? Just because he was the cutest, nicest, and sweetest person that Karkat had ever had the pleasure and immeasurable luck to have met? No, he had an image to keep; one that Dave could’ve torn right apart to see the truth it hid whenever he wanted, really, but still one that existed, and that he cared to keep. So, no; he puffed out his chest and looked really weird instead of fucking sighing, thanks.

"No. I mean, yes, actually, but it's not like that. A lot of us are, but not everyone. There are preferences, anyway. You know."

"Are you? I mean--”

He did not fucking hear a single word that came after that, because holy shit, had Dave really just, did Dave want to, did Dave care to know? _Why_ did Dave care to fucking know? He could feel just how wide his eyes were right now, Dave’s lips moving right before him, tragically far away from his own, shaping themselves into infinite words that must’ve been Dave’s trademark rambling to hide the fact that he had just asked a very, very personal question to someone who was, in equal parts, a stranger, and the future love of his life.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am; it's not a huge secret. Why?"

"No reason, I just; it’s just that bro invited you, and I thought, I guess, well. I don't know what I thought."

"Yeah, you do. What is it? Why do you think I like him so much?"

"You, I mean, you're in the same class, and you're friends, and the way he talks about you is very cryptic, and then he invites you to lunch, and then you're here, and you're always sitting next to him, and looking at him, and, and, I don't know. I'm the worst at this. Are you just friends?"

"Yes!"

"Alright. Alright, my bad."

"No, look, I'm sorry. I just, I don't know why you're all trying to push us together, like, I don't even think we're _friends_ friends, you know? This all just came out of left field for me. He's not my type, and I'm definitely not his, either. It's just, we're just hanging out here. I didn't come here for him, I--" A swallow. "I'm here because I want to be friends with you. Guys. I'm even going to the Styx tomorrow, like, I’m really trying, Dave."

"Wait, you’re going? You're spending tomorrow, too?"

"Yeah, hoping I'll manage to put something together in time that won't look too fucking disgusting out there."

"Oh, dude, I've got, like, the perfect idea for you. I have this robe that I wore last year for Kye, and I keep repurposing it, anyway, and you're about my size, too, so, check it, a white robe, some white makeup; can we paint your horns? Because white horns with a laurel wreath on your head, and, like, fake gold jewelry would be sick. You'll be the opposite of me, like one of the Styx visitors, all Heavenly and shit. Man, we’ll be a couple."

He absolutely had _no_ reaction to that, not a single noodle in his brain working well enough to put even the first string of words together, because, holy fucking shit. A couple. Okay, obviously not in the way that he wanted that to mean, but, whatever, Dave had fucking said it, a couple! The two of them a couple, oh my god. Oh my god! He shivered, heart hammering hard against his ribs, sweat breaking on his hairline, holy shit a couple. A couple. And Dave wanted to paint his _horns?_ Dave had absolutely no clue what that did to him, what kind of savagery that idea had just colored his mind with, because horns were not what humans thought they were, and he didn’t think that any of those bozos out there knew that, either. He didn’t blame Dave at all, though; if anything, God, he, he thanked him. Painting his horns white, goddammit; Dave letting him wear _his clothes,_ and he knew exactly which robe he was talking about, too, because Kye was another one of those events that simply didn’t fly under the radar. It wasn’t Greek themed like the Styx, but last summer Dave had dressed like an angel, and, honestly? Honestly? He hoped that Dave would repeat the costume this year. Would it smell of apples and roses? Would people know who he belonged to? He meant the outfit; who the outfit belonged to. He breathed.

"I’m sorry."

"Because I'm gonna be dressed up like a resident, get it? So we'll be like opposites, except we're really just the same underneath; it just takes a trained eye to see that. It’ll be fucking awesome, but I’ll need you to kind of stick around for the full illusion, you know.”

"Yes.” Yes, my good fucking lord. Yes, God; anything for him, and if that meant spending even more time with him, and having the general populace of their campus watch them _be a couple,_ then, really, who _was_ Karkat to deny him such a sweet request? He cleared his throat. “Yeah, dude, totally.”

He had no idea how he was going to sleep tonight.

“Hey, guys.” Somebody else’s voice, and his heart skipped, eyes going for the door over Dave’s shoulder, sweat on his brow and heat on his face, even though they weren’t actually doing anything, and his mind was just working overtime to fill in the gap between their bodies; the filters that he usually had now completely dissolved into the alcohol. He wished that the same would’ve been true about his courage to act physically, but, also, he didn’t. Rose was right about the masquerade, but the fear was still there, and still very real, despite Dave’s innocent insinuations. A couple.

Dave turned to glance at the door, and there was none other than Egbert’s face appearing to join them that would’ve been quite so disappointing. It sure was Egbert’s turn next, he guessed, and going from wine back to water felt like walking barefoot on flames. He wished that the game were over, and that they could move on to something else instead, something better, or that Egbert would’ve simply waited for Dave to leave the room first, which, with a little handiwork, never would’ve happened. Karkat was fine with living in here forever.

“Can I hang out in here?” Egbert asked, already inside the room, door pushed closed behind himself, rendering the question completely useless. Great. The answer would’ve been no.

“Yeah; Karkat’s going to the Styx tomorrow.” Oh, how he loved to hear his own name on Dave’s lips; nothing had ever felt so good. His guts were flourishing.

“Really? What are you wearing?”

“Well, why don’t you tell him, Dave?”

With a gorgeous half-smile on his lips, Dave did.


	4. The Styx

Evidently, he had never been hungover before, and, taking into account every teenager in high school that he used to know, plus every picture taken and posted of their experiences with it, and every piece of media produced about it, the only thing that surprised him was how long it lasted, because nobody had told him that. He supposed that it varied depending on the person, and what they had had the night before, and how many different things they had poured into the mix, and how much of it all they had downed throughout the night, but he just never thought that it would’ve lasted more than a couple of hours, or, in his case, a whole fucking day. Yeah, his head pounded, his eyes hurt, and his stomach churned all day long, even after eating, even while keeping hydrated. He wanted to blame their stupid Never Have I Ever game for having made him drink so much, but, realistically, he just never should have had the first glass of Roxy’s cherry soda to begin with. He was dumb; he had told himself that he wasn’t going to do it, and then he went and did it anyway, first thing upon entering the house. He hadn’t even known what the rest of the house looked like then. 

The morning was the worst part, because he woke up on the living room couch under a blanket that smelled of pinewood and chestnuts and immediately bolted for the bathroom in Dave’s room, the only one that he knew the location of, and that they had all been using the night before. He threw up all over Dave’s toilet, and proceeded to feel like shit about it. It was the absolute worst; it hurt his throat, made his eyes water, had him swallowing acid for a whole ten minutes after, and he hated it, all of it. It was embarrassing, it hurt, and he didn’t want to go through it again, even if he was the only one to have witnessed himself. Like most things, and he recalled this with a vague memory of Rose in his head, it was psychological. Washing his hands, face, neck, and gurgling some tap water, he regretted every single sip of alcohol that he had had last night, and promised himself that he’d never drink again. Incidentally, Dave’s towel was right there, hanging on the rack, and he knew it was Dave’s because of the color. Not that it meant anything, but he dried his face on it before leaving the bathroom. 

Dave was awake. Seeing him was kind of a shock, because Karkat hadn’t factored in the possibility of anyone being awake right now, his brain thinking that it was far too early into the morning for that yet, even though he didn’t actually know what time it was. He froze by the bathroom door, feeling weird to be in Dave’s room while the guy was still in bed, aviators off, red and white covers over his legs; he rested partially up against the headboard, still in the same floral print from last night, hair mussed very beautifully over his forehead and a phone in his hand. Karkat’s presence had him glancing up, red eyes that immediately burned right through his soul and set his blood on fire. How, and what were the chances that Dave Strider would’ve had the same genetic mutation that he did, and in the exact same hue, too? That was an auspice. It meant something, and he couldn’t stop staring at it, at the two bright reds that changed the whole game, that made Dave seem a lot more familiar than he really was, that made him believe in a sort of connection between them that wasn’t from this realm, that was a lot more spiritual than they could perceive, because he wasn’t so alone in this world at all. Creatures skewed in the very same manner, running into each other’s lives by total, total accident; it meant something. Dave put his phone down. 

“Are you good, man?” 

“I am now. Thanks.” Emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, he had never been better; looking at Dave’s face, the lightness of his hair falling over the tan of his skin, the red of his iris on the whites of his eyes, it was like seeing an angel for the first time, the definition of the word transcendental. This was what Dirk should’ve shown him last night. 

“Do you want breakfast?” 

“Yeah, I’d love that.” 

Dave pushed the covers aside, got up from the bed, and, well. He wasn’t wearing any pants, only boxer briefs that hugged his ass in a very, very nice view that Karkat definitely didn’t look at, not for long; eyes soon finding the opposite end of the room instead, where Dirk still slept, orange blankets pulled up to his ears, only a tuft of light hair sticking out on top. Dave crossed right in front of him for the half-open closet doors next to him, and his entire body shook, hands closing into fists to keep from trembling, neck almost hurting in a very deliberate attempt at training his eyes on Dirk Strider’s sleeping form while Dave danced half-naked in his peripherals, apples and roses dipped in cherry soda surrounding him from this close, reminding him of all the wasted opportunities in Heaven. He knew that he would’ve never done anything, but it was still a disappointment to think about; one more ounce of self-assurance and he would’ve done it, though he wasn’t sure what that would’ve been. 

Dave moved away from him, toward the door, and so he followed, eyes finally free to drink Dave up again, inconspicuous from two feet behind; the black pants that Dave had put on very similar to the ones that his brother wore to college, except looking to have been a lot more comfortable, maybe pajamas, maybe sweats with the cuffs at the bottom. They fit him well, loose at the sides but just right on the ass, which Karkat allowed himself the luxury to stare at just as they crossed the living room, toward the mysterious arch. He had earned that much. 

The innards of the house were about what he had been expecting to see; a foyer of sorts, round and wide, that connected the downstairs rooms to the stairway and also led to the back porch door, modestly furnished with a small wooden table, a couple of armchairs, a rug, and some decorative trinkets; flower pots, picture frames. The morning sun came in through the left window pane, basked the armchairs in light, and filtered the pale cream of the curtains to color the room in warmth. They crossed the foyer to the kitchen, and he could hear the sisters talking between themselves already, the smell of eggs and bacon stronger as they approached. For a second there, he had thought that this would’ve been a one-on-one breakfast with Dave Strider while the world slept, but he supposed not, which was a little upsetting, but it’d be fine. He only hadn’t accounted for Egbert’s presence, though, stuffing his face with toast and orange juice the first sight in the kitchen, but it really didn’t matter; at this point, it was already a group hang out. The girls offered him pots and pans to cook with, but Dave had him sit down instead, saying that he’d treat him to this one, his first time around and all. The gesture filled his lungs with air and warmed his chest with appreciation, even if he didn’t really show it, and only managed to give Dave a small thanks in response. If he had allowed himself to have said one more word than that, the wrong ones would’ve come out, ones that Dave wasn’t ready for. Yet. 

Over breakfast, general gossip and drama about some of the people that the family all collectively knew, either from sharing eight to ten a.m. English classes on Mondays and Tuesdays, or from partnering up with them for a Biology project one time; it was all inconsequential to him, faceless names on a list. As it turned out, Rose was taking the first, and Dave was taking the latter, while Roxy was a Chemistry major, meaning that, together, plus Dirk’s stupid ECE for nerds, they knew virtually everyone that currently walked their campus, and talked about people that Karkat wasn’t even aware of. Surely, he could follow the bigger titles; more notable people in sororities, or fraternities, or that simply had enough money to host parties at their own houses or apartment buildings, but a lot of those he only had vague notions of; people that he had studied with once and never even talked to, people that had enrolled just last year and frequented the very opposite corner of campus than he did, exchange students that he knew nothing about, and the general populace that managed to party with the family every other weekend. Topics varied from new faces to relationship status updates, to the newest acquisitions by the Greeks, and whose parties had bombed last week because they hadn’t gone to them. It was very strange to be seated at one of their famous council meetings when he barely even understood what was being discussed, and mostly busied himself with what Dave had called a chilaquile, which just looked like a different kind of nacho to him, sloppier. He had never had something like this for breakfast before, and generally just didn’t care about human food, to be honest, but, as Dave reassured that it was a very popular dish in Texas, he ate it without complaints, and immediately loved himself for that, because this shit? This chilaquile shit that he’d never even attempt to pronounce out loud was absolutely delicious. He decimated his plate in about five minutes, no regrets, only Dave half-smiling in response to it. A huge, huge victory. 

The morning was spent in absolute decadence with the five of them sprawled across Roxy’s bedroom floor chatting and drawing, listening to music and sipping on plenty of water; everyone still kind of fucked up from last night, languid over the carpet and completely fucking useless, on their phones, taking selfies and instigating everybody else’s lives. It was nice, actually, on a very different scale of what Karkat had thought that this day would’ve been like, of what he had been expecting out of it, and he enjoyed himself; he drew all over Rose’s notebook, swapped masterpieces with Dave, colored each other’s work, and existed next to him like two totally normal dudes who were hungover to shit but still made jokes about it, his freaky side locked in a cage with everybody else around. Yes, Dave’s cologne was intoxicating, and taking selfies with him, watching them go up on his Instagram, and getting tagged in them felt like an out of body experience, and, yes, receiving friend requests from everybody in here must’ve been consequence of the lingering effects of last night’s heavy inebriation, but he managed to not let it all get to his head, or even think much of it, really. The knowledge of what that meant wasn’t something that he allowed himself to ponder, because it would’ve made him scream, and the image of himself that he wanted Dave to see was not that. In all truthfulness, he was just as chill as Dave Strider himself. A huge, fat lie, but one that he’d wear around his neck to conquer that sweet, sweet approval above anything else. 

At some point, Dirk showed up at the door, all dressed and changed from last night’s clothes, the usual dickhead that Karkat saw walk into his classroom twice a week, with his head held high and his car keys in a hand; the serious and taciturn façade back in place, not slipping this time around, and Karkat was fine with that, because he had already seen what was behind it. Dirk knew how to hide himself better than everybody else in here, and he supposed that that was the sort of survival tactic that came with having one’s pacifier taken away too early. Everyone turned to look at him, who didn’t walk into the room, and the television mounted on the wall adjacent to him read noon. 

“You guys up for some Wendy’s?” 

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Dirk; I’d kill for some hamburgers right now.” Rose was the first to get off the floor and leave the room. 

Unsurprisingly, the afternoon featuring Dirk brought nothing new to the table, with the six of them doing more of the same on the way back from the drive-through, talking over hamburgers eaten in the car and their plastic cups taken upstairs to Roxy’s room, which, he had come to learn, was the biggest of the house, second only to the master suite, of course; shut and locked, not one trace of their parents around all day. A mystery that had him staring at the last door down the hall every time that they climbed the stairs and every time that he left the room to use the bathroom across the hall, except he didn’t ask about it, or even about the adults at large, in fear of being rejected by the only group of people that he cared, actually cared, to associate with. 

Usually, Roxy told him, laying on her back with her phone up to her face, each of them just hung out in their own separate rooms, but, because they had company today, Egbert also included there, they all wanted to spend time with them instead. Yes, in Roxy’s own words,  _ they _ wanted to spend time with  _ him, _ not the other way around, but also the other way around. Egbert still counted, whatever, but, him. Dave wanted to be here with him as much as he wanted to be here with Dave, and, maybe the proportions to that weren’t exactly on par, but there was still some truth to it, and that kept him warm. Watching TV, drawing nonsense, lounging next to Dave, he had never felt so good, and he had really thought that this had been it; that this, right here, had been the highlight of his entire holiday, because what else could possibly have been better? What else could have possibly topped this? Tonight had him completely unprepared. 

It started with him putting on Dave’s white robes from Kye. They already had glitter all over from other parties, and, as he pulled the folds over his head, glitter immediately poured down, washed him entirely, stuck to his skin and dug through his hair. It took him by surprise, of course, the sheer amount of it, but he didn’t exactly hate it; looking at himself in the mirror, at the way the light caught the glitter and made his body sparkle, he liked it, how it looked, the glamour of it all. Very sincerely, it made him feel nice to look good and know it, to do it on purpose and see it come to fruition, even if the clothes didn’t belong to him, even if it hadn’t been his idea in the first place. None of that really mattered, only the thought that Dave had worn this a few months ago, and, by the looks of it, hadn’t washed it very well, if at all. That alone was rapturous enough to get him through the night. Hanging from his left shoulder, the fabric draped down under his right arm and all around his body, falling to his knees just enough to cover them. It was formless and far too breezy underneath, but he knew that it was still missing a belt around the waist. Dave came in with it. 

“Dude, you look perfect; we don’t even need to tailor it.” 

Oh, shit; he wasn’t expecting a compliment from Dave, much less one of such magnitude; his heart sped off, his brows lifted, and he almost even smiled.  _ Almost _ having kept him stoic instead, staring dumbly into Dave’s face, watching his own stupid reflection again. He was a fucking idiot, but, at least, he was a good-looking one tonight, and he’d never say that again. Well, think it. With a small thanks, he took the belt and looped it around himself; Dave going off to rummage through his closet in the meantime, fake gold jewelry popping out from the drawers as he went. 

“These are yours. I’ll be back.” 

When he did, in full black garments, long robes that flowed from both of his shoulders and hung to his elbows in beautiful arches, Karkat had to take a step back to rightfully appreciate it all; the contrast of black on Dave’s skin, the details of the fabric, the floral pattern hidden within the monochrome, the cuffs on his hands that almost looked victorian; he was a masterpiece, and he wasn’t even ready yet. He dropped a pair of golden sandals to the ground and walked into the bathroom, robes flowing behind him, his feet completely hidden within the folds. Karkat followed, trying not to say anything, and trying not to stare, either, despite how quickly his pulse ran, and how heavenly he felt right now. This high was what crackheads wished to get off to. 

“I’m gonna need you to help me with the face paint.” Dave spoke, standing at the sink, making some room on the counter by pushing products off the center. “I can’t get the horns right by myself.” 

Oh, God, here they went again. The horns. Okay, no issue, he could do this; one breath in, one breath out. He was good, and he was ready. He had to be. On the counter, Dave placed a few pencils and pens and small bottles of glitter; horns and glue in a corner, face paint and glitter in the other. He had never done this before, or anything like it, but, whatever Dave told him to do right now, he’d do it, no hesitation. Absolutely anything at all. They stared each other down, suddenly; shades meeting his face, and his reflection looked terrified, bug-eyed, tragically laughable. One second of watching himself on black lenses, and the Ray-Bans came off, placed down on the counter instead, bright red eyes looking back at him. 

“Alright, we’ll do you first.” 

His brows raised, and he kept his stupid mouth shut, just in case, just to make sure that he wouldn’t even think of saying anything back about that, regardless of how many times he had dreamed of those very words on the one pair of lips that had just spoken them. Different context entirely, it didn’t matter; he nodded his response and watched Dave go through some pencils on the counter, holding up a couple to him as he talked. 

“This one’s for your lash line, and this one’s for your skin. I’m gonna have Roxy do that last one for you, because it’s legit, but you can fill in the lash line while she gets ready.” Dave offered him the pencils, then picked up a bottle. “This is for the horns.” 

Oh, God. 

“I can do that one.” He blurted out, promptly taking the bottle from Dave and setting all of his material on the other end of the counter, still cluttered, but directly in front of himself. “Let’s do you now.” Heart leaping out of his throat with those words, about a hundred distinct dreams flashing right before his eyes, a misplaced feeling of familiarity warming up his neck. He didn’t blink. 

“Alright, I’m using all black, but we’ll do the same designs to match. I’ll only need your help in a minute.” 

Leaning close to a mirror, over the sink, to fill in his own water line with white, while less than a foot away from Dave Strider himself, who did the exact same thing in black, was an event that he never thought would’ve ever happened, not in Dave’s bathroom, and, anyway, not with these many clothes on. He wasn’t a fucking freak, either, trying to undress Dave at every turn; his dreams just happened to feature a lot of mature content about this guy, and not at all to his own fault. He set the eyeliner down and turned to stare at the reds that mimicked his own, black underlined, white background. Dave ran a hand through his own hair, flowy and opulent, to split his bangs and part them on the opposite side of his head, a long and lustrous mohawk in the middle. 

“Hold this back for me.” 

With his pulse loud in his ears, he brought a hand up to brush Dave’s bangs back, holding them out of his eyes, the softness of Dave’s hair absolutely baffling, but also exactly what he had expected; smooth and straight, not a single knot to tangle in his fingers, a crescent urge to run them into a caress. He didn’t do it. Watching Dave take one of the horns from the counter, pour some glue to the base, and bring it up to his forehead, he tried not to freak out, every nerve in his body fighting to keep his one hand from trembling right on Dave’s scalp. He never thought that this would’ve happened, the position that he currently found himself in, apples and roses enveloping his every sense, all that he could smell from this close, and all that he ever wanted to know. One short lean, and he could’ve met Dave’s jaw with his mouth. He turned his face away, heart beating out of his damn chest. 

This was so much, standing this close, touching Dave’s hair, practically embracing him with an arm hovering behind his back, the two of them dressed to match, minutes away from exposing himself to the world under Dave Strider’s wing, in his clothes, and with his makeup on. The campus was going to explode tonight, he knew it; talk of his sudden insertion into the Strilonde group nothing that could’ve ever been predicted, and in a much different way than John Egbert, because, while Egbert had enrolled a year before the Strilondes, he had been there since the beginning; before the rumors and the talk, before they became who they were today. They grew and evolved with Egbert there for the whole ride, but, him? No one even knew who the fuck he was, and he wasn’t even sure if he was ready for that to change yet, to have his entire life researched, scrutinized and nitpicked by everyone that had ever spoken to him once. Tonight was going to turn his world upside down. 

With two black horns growing out of his forehead, projecting outward, up, and coiling backwards at the top, something in between an antelope and a demon, Dave stared at his own reflection, at the perfect symmetry of the horns, almost fucking real. Slowly, Karkat let go of his hair, and watched as the strands swooped forward and fell over his forehead, split where the left horn was, blonde hair on black acrylic. His heart skipped, and he had to take a step back, his veins filled with the cold realization that Dave meant a lot more to him than he had given him credit for. He took a pencil from the counter and made for the door. 

“I’ll go see if Roxy’s done.” 

It was stupid, this whole thing; how much he actually, genuinely gave a shit about someone who didn’t even know him. Who  _ he _ didn’t even really know, not on a personal level, not aside from all of the stories, and all of the rumors that he had heard from others who didn’t know Strider, either. Sure, he had gotten to know Dave on a very, very surface level over the last twenty-four hours, but it didn’t mean much, because a person was a lot more than what they told their guest after a shot of rum or two. He was pathetic, crushing on someone’s fabricated image, setting himself up for heartbreak by getting too close to the real thing, one tug on the curtain to break the illusion that had seized his heart for good. Dave wasn’t the stories of him that circulated the campus, or what Karkat wanted him to be, either; Dave was just a guy who was nice to him once, on strictly platonic terms, and the sooner he saw that, the better. The sooner something went wrong at this party and broke the illusion, the better, so he could work on moving on to something less embarrassing, like a Hollywood figure that everybody was in love with. He was going to sabotage the Styx for his own good. 

Roxy’s magic had the six of them looking like they didn’t belong in this realm of existence, with the sisters dressed like variations of Persephone and Medusa, while Egbert and Dirk each gave the eternally damned their own spins; Egbert a dorky version of a lost soul, and Dirk something of a fallen god in black and gold. Seeing them all stand side-by-side was very interesting, and sort of an overwhelming experience, but he managed to not let his stupid fanboy side get the best of him, and copied Dave’s poker face for the full effect, twins from a distance. They took Dirk’s car in relative comfort, Egbert in the middle seat between himself and Dave while the other three took the one long front seat. Placements were arbitrary, but it seemed that Dave and Roxy called shotgun more often than the rest. Karkat couldn’t give less of a shit about that, and tried not to think of Egbert’s body touching his own during the ride to town. 

The Styx looked exactly how he had expected it to look, like an improved version of last semester’s, with the walls darkened by the black light and the crowd colored in red and green flashing neon, shining down from overhead, flicking to the beat of the music. The smell of sweat and alcohol immediately hit him as they walked in, strong and all surrounding, only partially masked by the artificial fog that periodically filled the room in a scent that he wanted to believe was blueberries, but extremely synthetic. Through the glitter and the crowd, they immediately hit the bar, the people in line letting them all go ahead in exchange for some light conversation. A guy hit on Roxy, got a laugh out of her, and Dirk cut in front of them for two tall glasses and a shot. Next to him, Egbert simply watched, the look on his face not exactly readable. He decided not to ask about it. 

This early into the night, he told himself that he wouldn’t start drinking yet, all of his “I’ll never drink again for as long as I live” hangover bullshit from earlier completely forgotten. Either way, he wouldn’t start  _ really, _ really drinking; conscious of his lightweight nature, this time he accepted the glass that Dirk offered him from up front, and tried to keep it in a hand for as long as he could make it last, only sipping casually every other five minutes. He was trying to survive tonight without dooming tomorrow, or, at least, not waking up to a throw up call first thing, so that was progress already, a change of character, and he’d take it as growth. 

Sipping on what seemed to be a concoction of liquids stirred into pieces of passion fruit, he followed the family around the club, mostly keeping to himself as they schmoozed with people that they barely knew, gathered information about ones that they knew even less, and drew their own conclusions over hushed tones that managed to cut through the music somehow. Everyone that they passed by glanced at them; some coming over for pictures and gossip, others to hit on Dirk or Roxy, word quickly spreading that they had arrived, and the music eventually changing to what Karkat could only guess belonged to Dirk’s playlists on Spotify. It was really something to watch people be so brave as to approach all six of them just to have their shitty pickup line delivered in the worst, most embarrassing way possible, be turned into a joke for the family to laugh at, and still seem proud of it. Girls didn’t dare touch Strider, boys couldn’t manage to, and Roxy seemed delighted by all of her own fans, not taking a single one seriously. Watching from a short distance, it dawned on him that that was what real life stardom looked like, the King and Queen of the party, a sort of hierarchy within the group that he hadn’t noticed before. Actually being in the thick of it changed everything, and part of him was glad that Dave wasn’t the one to get hit on, while the other part kind of really wanted to see it happen, just to have his own heart break faster. His hands trembled, and he drank from his glass. 

At one point, decently far into the evening, and after three different drinks that he wasn’t exactly sure where had come from other than Dirk’s hand, he found himself on the dancefloor, tasting whatever it was that Dave had been drinking while surrounded by the others. It was an excuse, obviously, to share a glass with Strider, but not one that Dave seemed to mind, trusting him with his glass every now and then, more interested in busting out some moves than whether or not Karkat had sampled his drink in the meantime. He didn’t dance, not initially, limited to tapping feet and occasional jumps, but his body swayed naturally to the music, and the lights around him spun overhead, making beautiful patterns in the air, coloring Dave’s hair dark purple, red eyes piercing through the fog, meeting his own every other beat. Watching Dave was intoxicating, and possibly the reason that had him moving on his own, too; not trying to match up to him, but simply unable to stay still. For the first fucking time in his entire life, he danced in public, and didn’t give a shit if others watched him do it. Dave danced next to him; with him, without him, and the crowd melted into one big mass of bodies that moved, and swayed, and bumped him on the shoulders, and pushed him to brush arms with Strider, their costumes each other’s mirrors, the half-smile on Dave’s face the only thing that he could see. They bumped him forward, a shove on the back, and he took Dave’s arm for balance, a laugh erupting from Dave’s lips to make his throat shake, Adam’s apple bobbing, white teeth flashing, and he almost fucking kissed him. 

He went for it, too; one mindless lounge to close the gap between them, but Dave curved him for a hug instead, two arms around him and a stumble to brace the impact of his bravery. It would’ve been a violent kiss, he realized, with his face pressed to Dave’s jaw and roses under his nose. He had no fucking clue how to do this, felt the heat of shame burn his cheeks, and pushed himself off of Strider immediately, a loss of footing that had him squeezing Dave’s arm to stay in check. A half-smirk on Dave’s face, and he turned away, lest he tried to kiss that, too. What a major fucking embarrassment; he hadn’t even given himself time to enjoy it, the one hug that he had dreamed about so much. No; if he had stopped to think about it, he would’ve melted into it, and that wasn’t what tonight called for, not in these clothes, and not with Dave’s cologne on his skin. He aimed for something else. 

“Oh my god, Pyrope’s here.” Roxy announced at one point, emerging from the crowd with a cheeky grin on her face, and a tilt to her voice that he instantly distrusted. Pink eyes observed Dave for a second too long, and he squinted; in his inebriation, Dave only shrugged.  

“Cool.” 

“Are you friends?” He asked, because, as far as he knew, Pyrope hung around a weird bunch that usually kept others away, and generally made people uncomfortable with some very bizarre remarks that verged on manslaughter confessions. She wasn’t a huge name around campus, but he had had the misfortune of studying with her from three rows away in Statistics last semester, and wished nothing more than to never experience that again. 

“No.”

“You could say that.” 

“Not yet.” 

Three very distinct answers from three different people, but, since he only really trusted Dave here, he quickly disregarded what his cousins had said after him. 

“Okay, if she’s a stranger, then why do I care?” 

“You don’t, Karkat; the message’s not for you.” 

He blinked. Slowly, his eyes moved to fall on Dave again, at the small crease between his brows, the tension of his jaw, the stress on his shoulders; oh my god. Oh my god. His pulse ran cold, breath leaving his lungs. 

“You like her.” 

It was a troll all along. 

His blurted out accusation had Dave shaking his head in denial, a scowl on his forehead and distaste on his lips; very visibly showcasing his feelings about this, almost exaggerated, red eyes rolling in a much more grandeur display than his usual, trademark nonchalance and overall hints at what he had been really feeling. It was suspicious, at the very least, and led Karkat to not believe him entirely, heart racing fast, pounding against his ribs, his entire body trembling. If Dave had really been lying, then he was the worst liar of them all. 

“Fuck off, man; not you, too.” 

“She’s coming over.” Egbert whispered, but he could barely hear him over the long, long scream that ate up his brain. This was what he had been waiting for, wasn’t it, the inevitable end of his illusions, the stone to break through the mirror. He wasn’t ready. 

“I don’t give a shit, John.” 

“Pyrope, over here!” Roxy shouted, and, reaching through the crowd, pulled Pyrope out of it. 

Karkat felt like a ghost trapped inside its own coffin, watching this whole scene from thirty feet in the air. 

“Hey, Lalonde; you smell like a million dollars tonight. How much bubblegum are you wearing?” Voice shrill and painful, Pyrope leaned closer to Roxy, drawing in one long sniff to illustrate her metaphor. Very cute, if she weren’t a literal reincarnation of the Devil, even more terrifying in her black costume tonight, with what looked like tatters hanging from her every limb, turning her into something of a Greek swamp monster, a black laurel on her head and green glitter on her face. Roxy laughed. 

“If you think I look good, you should smell Dave.” 

The offer had Pyrope turning to face their general direction next, her malevolent grin tugging at the corner of her lips, razor sharp teeth gleaming under the flashing lights. She sniffed loudly, leaning forward across the circle for better judgement, but turning to him instead, the bright red orbs that she called eyeballs moving in their sockets. His heart raced, except he still couldn’t move; a corpse buried six feet underground. He wanted to punch her. 

“Who is this? I know you, but not from here.” 

His entire body shook. 

“That’s Karkat.” 

The red orbs widened at the response, eyelids retreating in surprise, and the hand on Dave’s arm squeezed. His chest burned with something that he couldn’t really name, a sense of property over Dave that made his eyes grow and his heart race, fingers digging into Dave’s skin, every noodle in his brain targeting Pyrope for an urgent missile attack, the enemy standing right before him. A wild guess told him that this, the venom in his veins and the desperate need to get his romantic interest away from the one who could steal it from him, was jealousy. 

“Karkat, you’re a whole meal. What’s on your skin, some sort of cherry? Cranberry?” 

“None of your fucking business, is what.” He spit suddenly, jaw set, feeling himself tremble regardless, a whole lot of fear still there with so much on the line. Next to him, Dave hissed, prying his arm away. Oops, claws in check; he took a fold of Dave’s outfit instead. 

Pyrope’s face moved in Dave’s direction, red orbs squinting. 

“Well, what is this I’m smelling? Are you wearing Dior to impress me, Dave?” 

A dismissive scoff. 

“Did you forget your glasses at home, Terezi?” 

“Did you forget yours?” 

“It’s not forgetting if it’s intentional.” 

Her grin widened, the scowl on Dave’s face disappeared, and, what was happening? What did any of that mean? His chest went cold, fear digging into his eyebrows, that he might’ve already been too late, that this battle had already been lost, and wasn’t this what he wanted in the first place?  _ She _ was the one who Dave cared for, obviously, and, seeing how relaxed his shoulders had become in her presence, posture back to its casual nature, and a much more welcoming air hanging about him now that he was talking to her, his intentions were clear. With a knot in his throat, he let go of Dave’s robes. 

“I’ll give it to you, that your hemocytes smell particularly delicious tonight, but Karkat’s got you dirty.” Pyrope talked while crossing the circle toward them, growing closer by the step, and ultimately less than a foot away from him, her shiny eyeballs pointed in his direction next, making his pulse race. Absently, he took a step back, watching her grin quiver. “Am I the cause of it, or is it Dave?” 

He squinted, no answer. 

“I don’t think he’s wearing anything.” Dave chimed in, possibly as lost as he was in this conversation. 

Pyrope turned to Dave. 

“Cute, that you think I’m talking about his cologne. You’re adorable.” 

Oh, God, he wanted to fucking throw up. Was this  _ flirting? _ Oh my god, he needed to leave. 

“Credit his outfit to me, then. We’re twins in black and white, can you smell that? The color of his eyes?” 

Dave’s voice, smooth and low despite the music overhead, getting through to the immediate people in his vicinity anyway, and his heart skipped; Dave talking about him, talking about his eyes, acknowledging him at all. It was pathetic how starved he was for Dave’s attention that a single crumb dropped to the ground had him throwing himself at Dave’s feet to catch it. He was an idiot, realized that, but couldn’t do anything to go back, not this far into the game; his best bet was a makeout session between those two right now, and, even then, it’d still take him months to get over Dave Strider. It was a lost cause. 

“Of course I can, Dave; I can smell a lot more than you think, and I’ll take this tribute to heart.” 

“What tribute? We’re not doing anything for you.” 

“Really, that you know I don’t have my glasses, and showed up here without your precious pair for any other reason than solidarity? You have them, then.” She squinted, voice dropping low. “I’ve always known.” 

“No, I don’t. You know I don’t.” 

An arm extended, gray palm turned up. 

“Give me the glasses, Strider, you dishonest thief.” 

Dave snorted, shaking his head. 

“Whatever, I’ll go to the lost and found with you just to prove it. You think I won’t?” 

What the fuck were they talking about? Just, what the fuck was all of this? They weren’t flirting, he didn’t think, not anymore, anyway, which he truly and deeply appreciated, but he still couldn’t follow what was happening here, and his inability to read their conversation, to read between the lines, was very worrying. These two clearly knew each other already, and had history between them, so was this really about a pair of glasses, or was there some sort of double entendre that he wasn’t getting? He wanted to believe not, but, if that was right, then this was just a really weird conversation that didn’t make much sense in the middle of a packed ass club. He opened his mouth to do the most idiotic thing ever and insert himself into this dialogue, but Roxy took his arm instead, stepping very, very close to the three of them, and cut him off before he could start it. 

“Hey, we’re gonna get some drinks; you guys want anything?” 

Terezi turned to them, Dave’s eyes falling on his cousin. 

“Yes, I’ll have what Karkat’s having.” 

Promptly, his heart skipped a beat, because what the fuck did she mean by that? Glancing from her shit-eating grin to Dave’s porcelain innocence and back, the hot feeling in his chest returned in full, the evil and rotten jealousy from before that burned through his lungs and punctured deep into his heart and made his hands close into fists, because, no, she  _ wasn’t _ having what he was having, because he’d never fucking let her. Not today, not with just enough alcohol in his bloodstream to fight a long lost battle, to attempt CPR on a decaying corpse. He was in denial. 

“Sure, me too.” Dave pitched in, and, God, how he wanted to just take his hands and pull him away from her, to have enough room in Dave’s life to tell him that their friendship made him uncomfortable and have Dave listen to him, validate his feelings, touch his face and tell him that she was just a friend. Was she just a friend, or had her glasses been in Dave’s room this entire time, her clothes in his closet, her image in his mind? He wanted to throw up; the knot in his throat tighter now, glassing his eyes a bit. Without a word, he turned and let Roxy drag him through the crowd, drawing him away from the other two. He could’ve never won this one. 

At the bar, Roxy told him that they weren’t going back; that the drinks were just an excuse to leave the two alone for a while, and that was the precise moment when he decided to let the whole night go to shit. Ordering three glasses with high alcohol content and pieces of fruit and ice that he didn’t care about, he joined the Lalondes and Egbert in the complete annihilation of their own selves, knocking back tequila shots after every empty glass while music played, people danced, and he couldn’t keep track of who had left for more, and who had just come back with more. All that he really knew was that Dirk had disappeared long ago, Rose was the least consistent with her timings, seeming to disappear for extensive periods at a time, and Dave was a fucking cunt who deserved to get the shit beaten out of him. He didn’t care what the others were doing, where they went and if they’d even come back; all he could think about was Dave, his hands on Pyrope, touching her hips, slipping under her clothes, and he wanted to fucking scream. Three shots later, he did, deep into the crowd, as both Egbert and Roxy danced next to him, their attention about as fleeting as his own, the music loud enough to swallow his scream in its entirety. He screamed, and he sobbed, and he stopped drinking for the night. 

In his head, the bathroom was a safe place, where he could hide and mourn and cry this one out in peace and seclusion. Already the world was blurry behind his tears, a red film over the lights and the people as he cut through the crowd, slipping his way across the room with the skill and delicacy of a stupidly drunk asshole. His surroundings were unstable, moving and wobbling around when he turned his head, object permanence total fiction; not a single piece of furniture, not a single painting on the wall remained in place, migrating the moment he looked at them, everything around him twirling in manic circles that made him sick, head spinning as he reached the bathroom doors. He had to grab the door frame and steady himself to properly enter, the floor seeming to have been made of soap somehow, his legs having trouble to work right. Still, he pushed the door and walked in, nearly bumping into Strider on his way out. Not the Strider who was a massive cunt, the other one, the pretty one in black and gold who had disappeared halfway through the party. Guess he had been hiding out here, too. Karkat pushed past him and walked into a stall, locking himself in it, a big sigh leaving his lungs and dropping his shoulders with it. In the darkness of his eyelids, the world still spun, but at least he was safe. 

“Karkat?” Strider’s smooth voice, the liveliness of Dave’s own missing from this one and stabbing him right through the guts. Goddammit, he hated him; his eyes leaked, his face burned, his throat closed, and he hated him, he really fucking hated him. He sobbed, knees slowly giving in and placing him on the toilet, sitting on the lid now, with both hands on his face, heels digging into his eyes. He fucking hated him. 

A knock on the door. 

“Yo, Karkat, you good?” Another try, but the timbre was still wrong, too low, too successful at apathy. Dave was bright and vibrant, a sort of effervescence bubbling just under the skin when he talked, self-restraint failing to keep all of it in check, too much energy to steer clear of his faux indifference display. Dirk, on the other hand, was absolutely dead. 

“Karkat.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” He slurred out, partially muffled into his own hands, partially broken up by a disgusting sniffle, tears smearing his palms, fire consuming his entire face. “I want to be alone.” 

“Alright, but I’m not leaving.” 

Another sniffle, and he wished Dave would’ve been here instead, would’ve cared about him enough to come check on him in the bathroom, to take his hands and apologize for being so fucking shitty. In lieu of long, black robes, he got gold sandals under the door and a tuft of spiked hair hovering over the top. He shut his eyes again, resting his forehead on both hands, breathing in long, deep drafts. His heart bled in his chest, tears dripped down to the ground, but still he breathed, black robes an image in his head, apples and roses a memory brought forward. This could so easily have been Dave that he, for a second, even humored the idea; Dave standing behind the stall door, intricate black robes hiding the Nikes on his feet. His pulse eased, heart slowly mending. 

“What do you want?” He asked, Dave his addressee, the image of him within his mind. 

“I want to know what happened to you. Are you hurt?” 

He cringed, mentally pitching Dirk’s voice a couple of decibels higher, putting some life into his words and the syllables on Dave’s lips. His chest ached. 

“Yes, but it’s stupid. You don’t give a shit.” 

“By stating that, you’ve denied me the benefit of the doubt, and how would you know my response, anyway, without actually reading it? All you have is biased speculation solely based on what  _ you _ think I give a shit about.” 

Goddammit, this was such a Dirk reply that he couldn’t even picture Dave saying a single word of this bullshit. Sitting up straighter and dropping his hands from his face, a groan stuck deep in his throat but not leaving it, he reached for the lock and turned it, pulling the door open for Strider. Another horrible fucking failure. Without a word, Strider glanced at him from behind sharp lenses, as if studying his complete degradation before deciding to come in, one step forward to close the door behind himself. It was cramped in here with the both of them, obviously, but Strider managed to make it one degree less awkward by taking a seat on the ground directly in front of him, so, at the very fucking least, he didn’t have to be at eye-level with the dude’s crotch. Sitting in silence, they stared at each other, the red that tinted his vision slowly clearing out, the discomfort of drying tear tracks on his face making his skin begin to itch. He didn’t move. 

“Look, I suck at this, but I want you to feel better.” 

He scowled. Really? Strider must’ve drunk far more than he had thought, then, because that sounded actually insane coming from this guy, from someone who barely even fucking knew him at all. If anything, Strider knew him even less than Dave did, which said a whole shit ton here. He didn’t hide that fact on his face. 

“Yeah, I know it’s unbelievable, but I do give a shit, Karkat. You’re a friend.” 

Ugh, his first name in Dirk’s voice again, and he still wasn’t sure that he liked it. It felt really weird to have Dirk sound so sweet right now, sitting on this surprisingly clean bathroom floor with him, kiking as if they were actual friends here, and not just two guys who shared a class this semester, one of which had a brother that he just happened to harbor the most ardent feelings for. Dirk was known for not having a heart or any emotions, for shooting down every single attempt at intimacy and only confiding in his family, so what the fuck was this? Why was Dirk rubbing his gorgeous costume on the bathroom floor right now? It couldn’t have been the alcohol, because Dirk only felt anger and melancholy when inebriated, so what was it? They weren’t fucking friends. There must’ve been something else. 

“What do you actually want?” 

“Karkat, listen, you’ve never been to this kind of shit, you don’t fucking drink, and then I find you out here, drunk as all fuck, looking like some Greek tragedy, like, dude. Something big is going on, and I think I can help you with it. No, scratch that; I know I can.” 

He squinted in disbelief, and, through the blurry mess of red, and the unshed tears that still clung to his eyes, Dirk almost looked like Dave; a smear of blonde hair, black sunglasses, glittery skin and black clothes, God; it could’ve been Dave, right here, sitting on the floor with him, trying to make him feel better. Rounder lenses, shorter legs, thinner arms, and it could’ve been Dave, being his friend tonight instead of pounding into Pyrope. He shut his eyes, hands closed into fists and a heartbroken sigh caught at the base of his throat, refusing to come out. A shaky breath found his lungs instead, his face prickling again. 

“You can’t do jack shit.” He answered, but his words held no bite; voice too soft to make an impact, even though he fully meant it. “This is out of your reach.” 

“Nothing’s out of my reach, Vantas; haven’t you gotten that yet?” 

A snort for Dirk’s distorted sense of self-importance. If he had half the confidence that Strider here did, Dave and Pyrope would’ve never happened. Either that, with his prize riding off into the sunset with him, or he would’ve moved on already, another archer to aim sharply into his heart, next in line. He breathed in deep. 

“Alright, Dirk, tell me something; tell me, if Dave’s fucking Terezi Pyrope right now, can you stop him? Can you stop both of them, right now, or is that out of your apparently really fucking long reach, huh? Tell me that.” 

Absolutely no emotional response from Strider at that, not a single eyebrow twitch or even that stupid dog-like head motion to show confusion; nothing, which was why he felt no emotional attachment to Dirk Strider at all. Dave would’ve at least had the decency to look shocked. 

“I can tell you with guaranteed certainty that they’re not fucking tonight, but the bigger question is, why? Why do you care to stop them?” 

He shook his head. 

“No, that’s the wrong question, Dirk; that’s not the way to make me feel better. You’re failing.” 

“Is it Dave or is it Terezi?” 

He shut his eyes, shaking his head still, hands gripping the toilet lid at each side of his legs, breath shallow, face consumed by flames. More than anything in the world, he wished that this was Dave, drunk enough to black all of this out so he could finally come clean and vomit out the whole truth simply to draw a response from him, a feeling, an emotion; anything that would’ve let him know that he had made a difference, that he had made a dent into Dave’s heart and left a mark in there, too. His throat closed, aching with a sob stuck at the bottom of it, swallowed down, denied out, and he could feel his eyes burn again, hot tears dripping from underneath his eyelids, his every limb shaking where he sat. His eyes squeezed, a grimace curled his lips, and he felt it, something; arms around his back, compressing him into a tight hug, a brush of hair on his cheek. His breathing seized and he didn’t move, paralyzed in place under the warmth of Strider’s body and the sweat of his skin, masked only by faint traces of Tom Ford. It wasn’t Dave, not this broad, not this strong, but it was human connection, and had him burying his face on Strider’s neck anyway, his hands leaving the toilet lid to wrap around Strider’s waist in return, grabbing onto his costume for dear life. He didn’t think of how weird this was, or the fact that Strider was capable of a hug so warm and inviting, no; this was companionship, this was contact, this was someone who cared enough to comfort him, and he took it. Hugging Strider back, he allowed himself to completely fall apart. 

He had never done this before, not in front of someone, not while quite literally in their arms, and it was a lot more healing than he thought it would’ve been, sobbing open-mouthed and crying something awful while in the warmth of a hug, shoulders shaking and body trembling under the strength of Dirk’s arms. It was fucked up, yes, beyond a doubt, and, if he still remembered this by tomorrow morning, he’d deny and regret it until the very day of his death, but, also, right now, it was exactly what he needed. Just, someone. Anyone, he supposed, given just who the fuck he was hugging, but it didn’t matter; Strider held him tight, enveloped him in tobacco and oranges and stayed there until his lungs lifted, his throat cleared, and he could breathe again, shoulders down, heart soothed. Broken into a thousand pieces, sure, but, at this very second, mended with a piece of gauze around it, cotton to stop the bleeding. It wasn’t permanent, but it was something. 

Slowly, Dirk let go of him; pulled back just enough for shades to shine his reflection back at him, to emphasize just how close they were right now, the warmth under his palms burning, the scent of tobacco intoxicating, and his heart skipped. Dirk was so close that he could smell the sweat on his skin, glitter from his neck now on his face, one breath away from conversion. Dirk leaned back, but not too far; he stopped him with a hand behind his neck and met his face with a kiss. 


	5. Blooming Roses stand-in

It wasn’t orthodox, or anything that he would’ve ever done under regular circumstances, and, in retrospect, he was very, very glad that Dirk didn’t even indulge him on that one, not kissing back, and simply pulling away from him instead. A friendly gesture that really didn’t hurt, neither emotionally nor physically, and had him leaning back as well, eyebrows raised, ice cold blood running down his veins. He had really just done that, huh; up and fucking  _ kissed _ Dirk Strider. Wow, bold move. Now that was enough reason for Strider to never associate with him ever again, much less still consider him a friend. Astonished by himself, his headless endeavors, and his own depressing loneliness, he watched Strider stand up and open the stall door, still absolutely mute, the atmosphere between them too heavy to breathe in. 

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out suddenly, heart beating out of his mouth as he jumped off the toilet lid. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” 

Dirk glanced back at him, and, in that one split second where he watched his own reflection on anime shades, an isolated thought of last night came back to mind, the realization that Dirk was just a fucking child, despite his height, despite the fact that they were only one year apart. Emotionally, Dirk was still seventeen, and a pang in his heart told him that he had just done the worst possible thing, ruining, in the process, any other steps that their friendship might’ve taken, and drowning all possibility of ever having the chance to get to know Dirk Strider, really get to know him. In the verge of a panic attack, he followed Dirk out of the stall, Dirk’s voice loud enough to echo off the bathroom walls. 

“Don’t fucking do that again, Vantas.” 

“I won’t.” He swore, towing after Dirk across the bathroom and out the door. “I’m really sorry.” 

A shake of the head, and Dirk didn’t say anything else. Instinctively, he tried to remember last night’s Never Have I Ever game and Dirk’s answers to it, aside from the ones that just gave away his sexuality, because that wasn’t exactly news anymore, but came up mostly empty-handed, with vague memories of Dirk drinking to failed relationships and getting fed up by their intrusive questions, but only because Dave had argued with Roxy over that. God, he was a fucking asshole; keeping spiked blonde hair in sight, he followed Dirk back to the party, through the crowd and onto the dancefloor, still densely packed, still smelling of sweat and alcohol. Dirk was clearly pissed off at him, and he wasn’t trying to escalate that in the slightest; right now, he just couldn’t be alone, even if that meant hanging around Strider from three rows of people away. It was fine, he didn’t mind it. He wasn’t having fun, but he didn’t mind that, either. 

A hand on his arm, suddenly, seizing it in a firm grip, and he turned to look at the perpetrator, only to find Dave there instead. His heart immediately jumped at the sight, face growing hot with shame, the feeling of Dirk’s lips still on his mouth. God, that had been so fucking stupid, and he was such a fucking idiot, too; he was so sorry, so sorry that his heart squeezed, his chest ached, and he could barely fucking stand it. An immense urge to apologize to Dave crashed over him like a tidal wave, a need to tell his sins and repent in any way possible, even if they weren’t together, even if his actions hadn’t impacted Dave in the slighest, even if what he did hadn’t broken a single vow. His allegiance to Dave was so strong that he felt like fucking scum standing here, in his presence, with his hand on his naked arm. His eyes glassed over, but he didn’t say a word. He couldn’t, throat too tight to speak, vocal chords splintered as Dave stepped closer to him, into his personal space, and kept him from running with that hand on his arm. He didn’t deserve this. 

“Hey, where is everyone? We gotta go.” 

“Uh, Dirk, he, I--”

Dave turned, scanning the crowd as he could see them, and easily caught sight of his brother, a taller head among most, blonde hair turned purple under the light. With an iron grip, Dave pulled him along, cutting through the masses to get to his brother. They talked, but Karkat couldn’t hear them over the music; Dave’s fingers dug into his skin, unshed tears blurred his vision, and the growing urgency to drink bleach started to make his arms itch. He wanted to say it, he wanted to put it out there, to let Dave know, to apologize profusely and have Dave watch him crumble down into a million pieces, but he could barely move, barely think at all; Dave tagged him across the club, gathered the rest of his family and Egbert, and they all hit the road home. 

Halfway through the ride, he blacked out. Dirk had been his first fucking kiss. 

He woke up with that thought roaming around in his brain and slamming into his noodles along with the pounding, and the aching, and the multiple regrets that made him groan and wish for immediate death. It would’ve been better if he had never gone last night, or, at least, if he hadn’t drowned his sorrows in alcohol, only to create even more, and even worse ones. Had it been worse to kiss Dirk than to accept the fact that Dave’s heart had already been claimed by another? He wasn’t actually sure, but both left bitter aftertastes that he vomited out into Dave’s toilet either way. Again, like a total jackass, because he had promised himself never to be in this situation a second time. Clearly, none of his promises had been kept, and, while Dirk still slept at the very end of the room, he took the walk of shame to the kitchen, where voices came from, indicating everybody’s presence. He felt like a ghost. 

“Jake’s in town.” 

Dave’s angelic voice was the first thing that he heard this morning, making his heart speed off, and his eyes stay low. He hadn’t really talked to him since last night, not that he could remember, anyway, and, after what happened, he wasn’t sure that he should, not ever again; filthy and mean-spirited little trolls deserved three days in the basement. Whoa, where did he get  _ that _ one from? Repress it, repressed it; he was fine. It was fine. Quietly, and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, he walked to the kitchen isle, where the family and Egbert were gathered around, all ghastly pale, with hanging jaws and dropped forks. He guessed that this Jake guy must’ve made a huge impression if everyone in here, except for Dave, seemed deeply disturbed by the news of his return. Bad news. 

“Like,  _ Jake _ Jake?” Roxy began, pink eyes wide, orange juice spilled all over herself. “Like, Jake from Houston Jake? Jake from England who then came to Houston Jake?” 

“Yes, that Jake. The  _ only _ Jake. What other Jake is there? He’s in town.” 

“How do you know?” 

He took inventory of the isle, of the food spread across it; bowls with cereal, a half-eaten omelet, chopped up fruit, a blender with what looked liked the remnants of a smoothie at the bottom. He took an empty glass and poured himself the rest of it. 

“I saw him at the Styx yesterday, and, no, it wasn’t just a guy who looked like Jake, it was the man himself. Luckily, he didn’t see me.” 

“Does Dirk know?” 

“I don’t think he does, or he would’ve skipped town by now.” 

On a very personal level, he found this smoothie to have been the best fucking thing that he had ever tasted, despite how much he hated bananas and found them, everything about them, absolutely disgusting. Along with whatever other fruit the bananas had been blended with, the end result had been delicious; Dave must’ve made it. He licked the rim of the glass before setting it down, eyes targeting the half-eaten, and, honestly, kind of forgotten bacon slices on Dave’s plate next. How truly despicable would it be if he stole one? Engrossed in such drama-filled conversation, would Dave even notice? His stomach groaned. He reached for it. 

“What brings him here?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t talk to him, but probably the campus, if I had to guess. No one from outside knows about the Styx; it’s a college party, dude.” 

“You’re… Probably right, but wasn’t he studying in Houston already? What makes him come this far out?” 

“Wasn’t he taking Business?” Egbert chimed in, and, to be completely honest, Karkat wasn’t paying one lick of attention to this conversation, but, if this guy Jake really was a Business Major, then it would’ve made a lot of sense for him to have been transferred here, or even changed universities entirely, because their campus was ridiculously famous for their businessmen professors, some of which even brought students from across the globe just to have classes with them. Sure, their university offered many other Majors, too, but Business was a much larger market than the rest; three years ago, he had almost even taken it just because his mother wouldn’t stop talking about it. God, what a mistake that would’ve been. He grabbed a bacon slice and scarfed it down. Heavenly. 

A collective  _ oh _ rounded the kitchen isle. 

“I don’t think we should go to Blooming Roses tonight.” Egbert whispered. 

“Yeah, with Jake roaming around, we should probably lay low today. Stay in for once.” 

“Bro’s not gonna take that lightly, guys. We need a convincing excuse.” 

“John’s sick.” 

“Nobody wants to go.” 

“Blooming Roses was called off.” 

“What are we doing instead?” He jumped in, the last slice of bacon pinched between two fingers, already on the way to his mouth. The entire group looked at him then, and, had he been entirely sober right now, he might’ve even felt an impact from that. However, as his head still swam from the remains of last night’s rum, he could only feel the pounding of his own skull, and continued his train of thought unprompted. “I mean, if we’re not going out, what’s gonna keep him here? We all know he’s a party animal.” 

“We could have a party of our own, something that he wouldn’t want to miss.” 

“Like what, though?” 

“Let’s open the Jägermeister.” 

“Dude, mom’s going to kill us.” 

“This is for an honorable cause, Roxy. Think of your cousin.” 

“We can play fucked up poker. He loves that game.” 

“We can let his stupid robots play, too.” 

“Perfect; there’s no way he’ll pass that up.” 

He had no idea why it was so important for them to keep Dirk away from this Jake guy, but, with a killer headache in the works, and nausea in the back of his throat, he decided against questioning anything right now, or getting himself involved into anything, either. This morning, he just wanted to dissolve; to crumble into tiny, tiny pieces and slip through the kitchen tiles, maybe settle underneath it, maybe dig deep to tangle into some roots. He didn’t know; he just wanted to not exist right now, and followed the humans into a day of rotting on the wooden flooring of Roxy’s bedroom to achieve nothing at all. He felt like death, and, laying on the carpet next to Dave, watching him draw, watching him talk, all he could think of was last night, Pyrope, their private time away from everyone. Had they danced together, had he flirted with her, had they kissed? He had kissed somebody, too, and, remembering that, he struggled to not be sick on baby pink carpet. 

FUCK!

It was fine. He hadn’t talked to Dirk yet, hadn’t fully apologized the way that he meant to, but everything in its right time, he supposed, not while Dirk still slept. That would’ve been the worst way to do it. Should he tell Dave? He should tell Dave. Not right now, either, with everyone around, but soon. Sometime soon, when he could seize the opportunity to have Dave all alone for a minute, just long enough to tell him, hey, I kissed your brother. I’m very sorry. Are we still good? Can we still be friends? I hope I didn’t just make things weird. I really don’t like him, I promise, but you’re not going to believe me now. I get it; if you hadn’t shown interest for Pyrope, I would’ve never thought you liked trolls, either. Staring into the black of Dave’s shades, at the reflection of his drawings, he felt his own heart sink to the bottom of his rib cage. Being around Dave wasn’t going to help him move on, he knew that, knew he had to cut the cord to begin healing, but doing that was going to be so fucking painful. It was going to absolutely destroy him, and was he even ready for it? His chest preemptively ached. 

Pyrope kissing Dave. He shut his eyes, a long, deep sigh leaving his lungs. Goddammit, he hated her. He hated himself. He wanted to hate Dave, too, but sincerely couldn’t, too much of a coward to let his fabricated image of Dave break and burn just yet, just because he had attached too much value to it, too much meaning. If he had ever gotten over Dave, who would he have thought of, then? Who would’ve made his heart race and his hands sweat from a single look, from a single word? No one, not that he knew. It would’ve taken him a long, long time to replace Dave Strider. In the darkness of his eyelids, flashing images of last night, the flickering lights, the purple shine to Dave’s hair, how they had danced together for that one millisecond; red eyes locked on his own, the half-smirk aimed down at him, the way that Dave moved his body, and the hug. God, the hug. He tried recalling it in more detail, but all that managed to reach him were memories of Dirk’s arms and soft, blonde hair on his face. He opened his eyes, heart speeding off, and complete regret eating him up inside. Shit. 

“Karkat?” 

His name on the sweetest pair of lips. He glanced over at Dave to meet with his own reflection on Ray-Bans shades, a small crease in between thick blonde eyebrows. 

“Are you okay, dude? You’re zoning out and stuff.” 

“No.” He bit his tongue. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.” He wasn’t, but that was no reason to expose himself in front of everyone here, so, sure, he was fine. He was all good and dandy. Unfortunately, he couldn’t muster out a fake smile to go with that fake ass lie, but he had a feeling that Dave would’ve believed him even less had he done that. One blonde eyebrow up, and Dave clearly didn’t buy his bullshit, but didn’t push him on it, either. He’d know about it all, anyway, as soon as the right moment should arise. He hoped the apologetic look that he gave Dave in response managed to make that clear somehow. 

Dirk was up for lunch, but surrounded by everybody else, so Karkat didn’t approach, not yet; he let them all have a really nice time at Chipotle, gossip over burritos, and very diligently avoid talking about Jake even remotely, as if he were some sort of infection, spread by uttering his name. He didn’t say much himself, just tried not to let his headache get too much in the way, or thoughts of last night creep up unannounced. None of it had been particularly pleasant. 

Their bullshit idea of having their own party instead of attending Blooming Roses only worked because of the poker with robots, which kept Dirk from walking straight out, and, instead, put a hint of emotion to his face, a quirk of the brow that Karkat decided to read as joy. They circled the Jägermeister, Roxy handed out her famous martinis, and the game began, with all six of them and three of Dirk’s own creations, little robots that he had a surprising fondness toward, something that Karkat hadn’t expected. They all had names and different little quirks, but, with boiling hot liqueur running along his veins, he really couldn’t care to catch any of that. He heard it, downed a shot, and immediately forgot everything that Dirk had just said to the group; all six of them, plus the robots, sitting in a circle on the ground. It was really vexing how Dirk never spent a single second alone, always accompanied by one of his cousins or Dave himself, from the living room to the kitchen and back, as if they were afraid that he’d run out the back door to meet up with Jake behind their backs or something, as if he was a kid with a gun in his hand or a little baby that needed constant supervision outside the crib. Alright, he had probably hit the jackpot with that last one, and didn’t have a particular problem with it, also giving Dirk a pass for being younger than himself, but, dammit, it made catching this guy alone for a word or two or a hundred different but similarly rehearsed apologies a lot harder than it should’ve been. The cousins came and went as they pleased, not watched that fucking closely, so why couldn’t they give Dirk one single break? He just needed one single break. One deep sigh out, and he grabbed the two cards that he had been dealt, numbers and suits blending together, the concept of Texas Hold ‘Em entirely lost in the wriggling noodles of his brain. He had never played cards before, and folded every round. 

The last ones to fold were usually Dirk and his robots, which made playing this game less like playing it and more like staring blankly at the side of Dave’s face while he wasn’t looking, one shot downed for every round lost. It was a clear waste of time, and he was sure that others felt this way, too, because, soon enough, Rose had gotten up to fetch herself some water, Egbert had excused himself out of the game for a pee break, and Roxy had picked up conversation with Dirk, a topic so involving that her cousin barely paid much more attention to the game afterwards, discussing her bullshit at length instead, a conversation that Karkat honestly couldn’t find within himself the motivation to follow. One last sip to finish his martini, and he got up from the ground, officially through with a game only created to indulge Dirk Strider and chain him indoors. He obviously wouldn’t be able to get his chance with either of the Striders while in this living room with everybody else, so he left for the kitchen, where he could at least wash his face and pour himself a glass of water. 

He sat down at the isle, half-full glass of water set in front of himself, and leaned over the countertop, with two arms braced to rest his forehead on. At this point, he wasn’t even sure what he was doing, still here, in this house, hanging out with this family for the third day in a row, when he had only meant to spend a handful of hours with them instead. It was his third time wearing the same shirt and pants after two separate showers; he desperately needed to go home and change, yet kept getting caught in other plans, in Strilonde plans that involved him now, apparently. Or, just happened to have him be tangled in the web as collateral damage, and much of it. God, he only wanted to apologize to Dirk, secure their friendship, and go home to nurture himself away from Dave, because, at the end of the day, even though Dirk was fucking weird, and they barely had anything in common, he was still someone to call a friend, which Karkat sincerely felt like he had none of right now. Egbert was always far too engrossed within this family to really give a single shit about him, dodging him in the hallways, evidently preoccupied with other stuff, and it took him a whole three days of living this guy’s life to see that, so, no; he didn’t have any friends. Probably not since high school. Sure, Dirk was manic and strange all the damn time, but he was there. Twice a week, anyway; Karkat hadn’t noticed just how much he had started to rely on that, the only human interactions that he really had to carry him through the week without feeling too abandoned over the weekend. Objectively sad and pathetic, though that wasn’t exactly news. 

Last night shouldn’t have happened. 

Footsteps, someone in the kitchen with him, and he turned to look, laying his cheek on both arms for that, peering at the approaching shadow through the bangs over his eyes. A distinct silhouette, round haircut and slim features that he had burned in the back of his retinas for years, ingrained into his mind a thousand times over, because it was his favorite, because it was his everything, because it meant so much more than that. Dave walked over and took the neighboring seat to his own, apples and roses cutting through the Jägermeister that radiated off of him, making his heart race, and his body slowly straighten, head up to look Dave in the shades. In the back of his head, Rose’s mind echoed the masquerade. He focused; Dave was speaking. 

“Hey, dude, are you okay?” Voice smoother than silk and softer than velvet, sweet enough to kiss, low enough to keep their conversation private within the kitchen walls. “You’ve been super weird all day.” 

One deeper heartbeat, and half of him wished Dave would’ve kissed him mute; would’ve grabbed his face, pushed him onto the isle counter and asphyxiated him with passion, while the other half wanted to scratch his skin open and ask if seeing it would’ve made Pyrope jealous. He tasted copper in the back of his mouth, claws digging into his own palms, the second scenario fresher in his mind. He breathed in sharply. 

“Hungover.” He answered, short and curt. 

“Maybe you should stick to water for the rest of the night.” 

“Maybe I should.” He shrugged, resting an arm on the countertop and leaning on it for a more casual look, even if artificially produced, even if he itched to drive his fingers through Dave’s face. 

“How was it last night, huh?” Almost malicious, he tried to make himself sound nicer than that. “I didn’t get a chance to ask.” 

“It was fun. They played Daft Punk after we left.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“Terezi; she stayed there for the whole thing, only left around four.” 

“Terezi…” He echoed back, slow, almost a mumble through gritted teeth. Liqueur coursed down his veins and burned a hole in his stomach, acid dripping down his organs, coming up his throat. Terezi. “How was it with her, huh? Was she good?” He squinted, voice reeking with venom, fire enveloping his heart, and a sort of numbness taking over everything else. He couldn’t feel his own hands, watched himself talk from thirty feet in the air. “Did you like it?” 

Thick and beautiful eyebrows pinched together behind the rim of Ray-Ban shades. 

“Fuck off, dude; I didn’t sleep with her.” 

“Why not? You like her.” 

“She has a girlfriend.” 

“She has a  _ kismesis, _ Dave. Three quadrants are still open, dumbass, so take the red ones before somebody else does.” 

“No, I’m not fucking with that shit, man. It’s not for me.” 

“Doesn’t have to be serious. If you’re nice, she’ll take you. It’s what you want.” 

“No, it’s not. I don’t want to be caught in this quadrant bullshit, it’s too weird. Like, sorry, I’m being xenophobic again, but I can’t do this multiple people dating one person shit. It’s…” Dave shook his head, black lenses reflecting the yellow of the lamp posts outside, bright in the darkness of the kitchen. “It’s either me, or it isn’t. If I’m with someone, I don’t want them with somebody else, you know? It just feels like...” A sudden pause, Dave cutting himself off with a shrug. 

Dave Strider, monogamous; he had never thought about that, about what Dave would’ve wanted in a relationship, always kind of assuming that Dave would’ve either been with a human girl, or in a red quadrant with a troll, but all of them? Could he even do it, make a relationship so fulfilling that every other quadrant became obsolete with it? He had never heard of something like that happening, and found it kind of fascinating, that Dave would’ve even wanted to try it, if Pyrope hadn’t already started filling up her charts. He breathed in deep, the fire in his chest subsiding, the numbness giving way to how quickly his heart raced, how warm his veins felt. An exclusive relationship with Dave Strider alone. 

“Feels like what?” He asked, the malice completely gone from his bloodstream, eyes feeling big and wide on his stupid face. 

“Like I’m not enough, I guess. One-on-one is just what I know.” 

“Can you do it?” His heart hammered. 

“What?” 

“Turn all quadrants into one, make them all irrelevant. Can you make her so obsessed with you that no one else matters?” 

“I don’t know. Not her, anyway.” 

“Not her.” He echoed back, heart pounding against his ribs, breath filling up his lungs. Not her. “Then who?” 

Dave shrugged. 

“I don’t know, Karkat, but nothing happened last night, and nothing’s going to happen. Don’t play into Roxy’s little games, because they won’t work; it’s just going to piss me off.” 

And did he look good pissed off? Could he feel the kind of hatred that was far more composed of admiration than loathing, that wanted to choke his lover to see them grow, that cut them open for constructive criticism and exposed them publicly to better them as individuals? He  _ made _ Karkat want to do it, to scratch his face and teach him better than to fall for a weirdo like Pyrope, but did he feel the same way, too? No, Karkat hadn’t given him a reason, hadn’t really antagonized him, not ever, actually, and, anyway, Dave was far too soft for something like that, for this kind of blood. Infuriating, yes, and stirring all sorts of emotions from the depths of Karkat’s heart, but unable to return a single one. Dave was everything, but not deeply enough, not thoroughly enough, and it made Karkat want to punch his face and kiss the bruise. Maybe that, in its confusion, was exactly sufficient to fill up his life and not leave room for any other quadrant; maybe that was what Dave meant in the first place. 

“I didn’t play her games, she just kind of dragged me around, but, look, nevermind that, just, aren’t you curious? To know how it feels like to rely on someone, fully and entirely on that one person? Doesn’t that drive you insane?” 

“Not insane, because it’s all I know, but I guess that does cut down the number of people you can count on, too, huh.” A short pause. “Do you have someone?” 

“No, not one quadrant.” Fully eligible, papers ready. “I’ve never been with anyone.” 

“Yeah, same here.” 

Yes, he remembered that from their Never Have I Ever game. 

“Do you ever think about it? What it must be like.” 

“To be in a relationship?” 

“Yeah, sure, but just being with someone, knowing how it feels like to hold them, to be kissed back, the softness of their lips on your skin. Do you think about that? How soft their hands must be, what they must feel like on yours, on your face, on your body. Do you?” Breathing deeper, he could feel his eyes widen, his weight on the arm that pushed against the counter. 

Dave parted his lips, a second of hesitation. 

“Yeah. Kissing, I think about that a lot, like, I can’t imagine how it feels like.” 

His chest went cold, suddenly, a dagger through the gut, slicing his flesh right open, body hanging in half. Fuck. 

Fuck.

“It’s… I…” 

Thick eyebrows up, and Dave’s interest rested in the palm of his hand, one decision away from being crushed. Fuck!

“I…” His vision darkened; he brought both hands up to his own face, eyes closed shut, hiding behind his palms; he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this. Swaying in place, gravitating away from the counter, one lean back on a stool that would’ve dropped him on his ass for free, and Dave caught him before he fell, two firm hands on his upper arms, as tight as on the dancefloor last night, stronger than ever, pulling him to safety. He breathed. 

“I kissed him.” Muffled and small, muttered into his palms. 

“What?” 

Hands down, eyes down, and he couldn’t look at Dave right now, not while Dave still held him by the arms, not with apples censoring his other senses. His face burned. 

“Your brother, I kissed him. It was a mistake, I--” 

_ “What?” _

His eyes closed immediately, squeezing hard, heart pounding out of his mouth, throat tight and sore, choking on his own viscera. He tasted rich, rich copper. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t  _ want _ to, I just, I wasn’t thinking, and he was  _ there, _ and I’m a fucking, I’m--” 

“Wait, Karkat, you didn’t want to?” 

“No! God, no; I was so fucked up, Dave, and he was just there. It meant nothing. It  _ was _ nothing.” 

Silence, and he had to glance up now, to make sure that Dave didn’t hate him, or wanted him dead. One small push, and Dave could’ve shoved him into the ground, but he didn’t. Instead, the hands on him loosened, Dave off his own stool and leaning across the small gap between them, aviator lenses colored orange in the light, pointed directly at him. For the first time, he couldn’t see himself in them, eyebrows completely hidden. He couldn’t read him and his chest hurt. 

“Why did you do it?” Smaller than a whisper, an emotion that he didn’t recognize, feelings that he couldn’t decipher. Instinctively, his eyes glassed over, the worst running through his head. 

“I don’t know.” He had felt so fucking alone in that bathroom stall that the first act of kindness had seemed like true love. He was going to be sick. “I needed someone, I guess, just not like that. I’m a fucking asshole.” 

“What did he say?” 

“He hated it, Dave; what the fuck do you think he said? He was a second away from drowning me in the toilet, and I think he should have; at least I wouldn’t be here now to repress the whole thing.” One shaky breath in, and he could barely see, the kitchen entirely submerged. “He told me not to do it again, idiot, which I never fucking would, anyway; warning or not.” 

A slow crease formed in between thick eyebrows, and Dave let go of his arms, leaning back to sit on his own stool. Already he missed the warmth of his hands. 

“You’re a mess, dude.” 

No heart, no emotion, and his throat tightened, aviator shades trembling underwater. It hurt to hear that, sharp edges digging into tender flesh, cutting him through the chest, because apathy in Dave’s voice pierced, and he was on the wrong end of the sword, the perpetrator himself. He deserved this. Scowling hard enough for his forehead to hurt, a single tear dripped down his face, something that he refused to acknowledge, hands closed into fists. 

“Thanks, Dave; big fucking help here, dude.” 

“No, listen, you’re going about this backwards. I’m not trying to be an asshole, I’m trying to help.” 

With his heart bleeding out of his mouth, he highly fucking doubted that, but still said nothing, allowing Dave to continue. Always and forever would he allow Dave to continue, even if it hurt, even if it absolutely skinned him alive. 

“Look, what you did was fucked up, yeah, we know that, but you said it wasn’t intentional, right? You never meant to lock lips with bro, it wasn’t about him, it was about  _ you, _ dude, how disconnected  _ you _ felt from everybody else. I mean, a toilet? You were in the bathroom when that happened? If you weren’t taking a fat piss, then you were probably avoiding someone. Who was it?” 

You.

The word never left his mouth, squinting out of his eyes instead, drowning with the tears that flowed down his cheeks. His throat hurt. 

“You don’t have to tell me, it’s fine, but the problem clearly isn’t the kiss; that was just consequence, like an unwanted side effect. The problem is why you were running in the first place.” A tilt of the head, almost the dog-like motion from two days ago, but this one wasn’t born from confusion, a lot sharper than the other, almost even skeptical. Surgically precise. “What happened to you?” 

He got up from the stool, making to circle Dave and leave the kitchen, but an arm blocked his path, stern across his chest, keeping him close instead. With no resistance, he stepped back, obedient, careful to remain within range of Dave’s touch, the warmth of his palms an addictive kind of burn. Dave swiveled on the stool to face him, two hands on his arms now, resting over the fabric of his hoodie, loose with the prospect that he wouldn’t try to run. In reality, he didn’t even want to, despite how painfully his heart bled, and how terribly his chest ached; being around Dave was everything, absolutely everything. 

“Hey, I’m sorry; I just want to make you feel better.” 

Those words on those lips set his heart on fire, his brain on overdrive; how much of it was true? Staring blankly at the abyssal dark of Ray-Ban lenses, he stepped closer, a hand down on Dave’s knee, pressing on the soft fabric of his pants, fingers squeezing strong muscle as he came closer still, watching how Dave didn’t lean back, how he didn’t fight this, obediently watching him in the silence, shrouded by the partial darkness of the kitchen. As he stood in between Dave’s thighs, the hands on his arms moved to round his back instead, to draw him closer, to pull him in and envelop his small frame into a hug. He didn’t fight it, eyes slipping closed as an instinctive response to the touch, the tip of his nose brushing the skin of Dave’s cheek, apples filling up his lungs, roses blowing through his hair. The hand on Dave’s knee ran up his outer thigh to rest at his hip, his face against the warmth of Dave’s neck, his body enveloped by thin arms that squeezed and held, pressing their chests together, Dave’s crotch to the low of his stomach. He breathed in deep, both hands moving to grab at the back of Dave’s shirt, heart leaping up to his throat; he moved in closer, legs barred by the metal work of the stool, an impossible need to feel Dave through his pants. 

“I’m sorry about bro.” A whisper, spoken into the tangled mess of his hair, warming up his scalp. He shivered, heart racing against his ribs. 

He wanted Dave to slide off the stool and grind down his body. 

“It’s fine.” He whispered back, listening to the speed of his own pulse drum into his ears, skin too warm not to burn. He pulled back a little, enough to look Dave in the face, to stare at the shades that reflected nothing back at him and immediately glance down at his mouth next; round, pouty lips with a perfect Cupid’s bow at the top and a full bottom, always pursed, one lean away from his own. Dave moved back, and a déjà vu sharpened the edges of his glasses upward, pointed lenses on ebony skin leaning back from him, pulling away, and the inevitable, the worst possible thing to follow. Letting go of Dave, he quickly stepped back, stumbling on his own feet, moving so fast that he almost even tripped down, eyes wide, searing cold fear crawling up his veins. The back of his head found the kitchen wall and he glued himself to it, his back cold against the tiles, breathing ragged in the darkness. He stared at Dave, at the crease in his brow, and how slowly he got up from the stool. 

“Dude, it’s chill; it’s just me.” 

He covered his face with both hands and breathed in all the air in the room. He hadn’t ruined this yet. 


	6. Unsuccessful Disengagement

Morning light filtered in through the thin, thin curtains over the couch and brightened the white paint of the ceiling, lights off, sunlight reaching across to touch a portion of the wall on the other side, over the TV, coloring it bright cream. He watched the half-open door to Dave’s room in silence, left ajar with his departure from it, where Dirk surely still slept, the voices in the kitchen too far to understand, muffled echoes that reached him only in gibberish. He didn’t get up for breakfast this morning, too sick to his stomach for anything right now, too ashamed to see Dave again so soon, not after another regretful highlight of his very long holiday with the Strilondes, exactly three days too long. Dave was sweet; had only been trying to help last night, seeking him out to make sure that he had been alright, exactly what he had wanted out of him at the Styx, only a few hours off, yet there he had gone again, being fucking weird, almost ruining absolutely everything that they had built together so far. Had he kissed Dave, too, he didn’t think that a single member of this family would’ve ever spoken to him again, on the real; right after Dirk, that would’ve been too fucked up to forgive. 

Sunlight covered the entirety of the couch and warmed him up under a thin blanket when the shower in Dave’s bathroom got turned on, the sound of falling water unmistakable; Dirk must’ve just gotten up. He listened to the drops fall uniform to the ground, only altering the echoes of their sound with Dirk’s presence, fatter drops hitting flat tiles as he showered. Absently, and in a very disconnected sort of reality, he didn’t picture Dirk there at all; in his mind, all that he imagined was the falling water, wishing it would’ve been soaking him through instead, his interest in Strider purely academic. If thoughts were transferable, he would’ve shared this one with Dave. 

Dirk left the bedroom a good long while after that, clean and dressed, the smell of aloe-vera surrounding him for right now, clearly before he marked himself with Tom Ford to trail about the day. He stepped through the door, and immediately paused for a very obvious, very deliberate glance in Karkat’s direction, making him move up to a sitting position, blankets pushed aside. This was it. 

“Hey, Dirk. Can you take me home?” 

“Aren’t you staying for lunch?” 

“No, I really have to go.” 

A pause, Dirk clearly deciding on an answer, and weighing everything that had happened over the last three days on a scale, pros and cons. Did Karkat really deserve this ride? Even his broke ass could’ve called an Uber, but that wasn’t why he had waited all morning to catch Dirk by himself. This was kind of the only way to do it, it seemed. 

Dirk went back into his room for the keys. 

“I’m sorry about the Styx.” He spoke while entering the car, backpack in the middle seat between them. “I didn’t mean to ruin everything.” 

Dirk breathed in, shoulders moving back as he did, hands steady on the wheel, black leather fingerless gloves making him look like a biker. He pressed the ignition button and the engine came to life, a soft noise to accompany the pleasant trembling of the car, almost a purr. Anime shades remained pointed forward as they left the garage, rolling down the driveway. Dirk didn’t look at him, speaking at the windshield. 

“I’m not mad at you. I was, but that’s over; it’s not personal.” 

“No, it’s not. I promise you I didn’t see you there at all.” 

“Yeah, you saw Dave.” 

His heart stopped immediately, eyes growing ten times too big to still be on his face, cold shock running down his entire body like the strike of lightning. He couldn’t speak, tongue rolled up and all the way down his throat, choking him where he sat. In his petrified silence, he watched Dirk turn to glance at him once, a quick handful of degrees to the swiveling of his head that gave him away, pointy shades shining in the sunlight. 

“It’s fine, I’m not going to tell him. I don’t hold you accountable for what happened, but you’ll never get a second pass, so don’t fuck around. You’re exempt for now.” 

“Dirk, I…” He literally had no idea what the fuck to say here, so deeply buried in his own handmade shambles that he could barely even breathe. He blinked, sucker-punched in the gut. “Shit.” 

“We’re good, Karkat; focus on that.” 

“Fuck my life, dude.” 

“Karkat.” 

“You’re not telling him?” 

“No, I’m not. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total asshole. I know what’s like to…” A minute shake of the head, and Dirk quickly closed his mouth, set his jaw. A prompt and very obvious shut up to himself. 

Huh.

“No, you don’t know what this is like.” He bluffed. “You have  _ no idea _ what it feels like.” Trap set with a lure inside to get Dirk talking and finish the rest of that sentence. Prying was a hobby. 

“As a matter of fact, Karkat, you’re not the first guy to fall for the wrong type, or think that you did.” Oh, what a catch. “Listen, we have a tendency to hide, just because of the society that we grew up in, because it was what we learned to do, because we think that they could never feel the same way, right? Well, the problem with that is, most of the time, we’re wrong. I know it’s scary to put yourself out there in order to actually find that out, but, truth is, not everyone’s straight. We’re conditioned to think that way, but it’s not true at all. You’d be surprised.” 

One interested brow up and was Dirk’s ex a faux straight man, then? Hiding behind polo shirts and boat shoes, but playing the field this entire time, only in costume, as not to be recognized by his peers, the façade that protected him of ridicule by those same people. And did this mean that  _ Dave _ wasn’t straight, either? His heart jumped. 

“What are you saying?” 

“That you shouldn’t give up before trying. Worst case scenario, it doesn’t work out, and you move on, which is what you’re probably already doing, anyway. Best case scenario, well.” A bounce of the brows, thin and delicate. 

His heart punched him in the throat. 

“Does that mean…?” 

“It doesn’t mean anything. It means go find out.” Dirk turned, pointy shades shining in the sunlight as he moved. “What’s your address?” 

Dave Strider, not straight; what a fucking concept. Absolutely phenomenal, a thought that he couldn’t scrub off his brain all day long, not that he even really tried, at all, dazzled by the prospect of it, fantasizing what came next. Dave, with a manhattan in hand, twirling the contents of his drink with the little stick full of fruit that it accompanied, round aviator shades reflecting his face surrounded by the bar lights as he leaned onto the counter, one knee over the other, thick eyebrows peeking out from the top. Frankly, Karkat, I’ve never been straight in my life; a small curl of the lips to showcase disgust, one sip of his drink to wash it down with. Pyrope was only a phase, now, you. Well. I’ve never adored anyone so dearly. A small smile, and the clink of his glass on Karkat’s own. Cheers. He didn’t know why Dave sounded like an old Hollywood romcom actor in this scenario, but, for some reason, it had his heart fluttering all the same. Dave, adoring him back; what a fucking thrill. 

His dorm had common rooms at the far back of every floor, where the residents of that floor did their laundry, cooked, lounged, and played board games on the weekends; the ones without a television in their own rooms usually watched it here, the ones without any friends usually watched it with them. As for him, he only dropped in about twice a day to cook himself meals and consequently abscond to the privacy of his own bed until the next occurence, no one in this place really worth talking to, no one that he had ever even given a shit about, and vice-versa. That happened to change tonight, however, when he showed up for a frozen pizza or whatever it was that he still owned in that fridge, portions of it split up by resident, his little corner always lacking, but somehow not the saddest of the lot. In the silence of the kitchen, which should’ve been deserted this late into a Sunday night, thus the reason why he even had dinner at this time, a very tall man that he had never seen before happened to be leaving just as he arrived; dark skin, black hair, green eyes, in a white shirt that hugged his biceps and plaid pajama pants that unfortunately didn’t show much at all. This guy, upon seeing him, offered a very handsome smile, nodding his way out. 

“Night, Karkat.” 

It froze him in place, right under the empty doorway, accidentally blocking the guy’s exit. This dude, who he had literally never seen before, or he would’ve remembered such a movie-like, model-cut but foreign-esque face, that managed to sound overly British with only a handful of syllables, already fucking knew him by name. It was insane just how quickly word traveled in this stupid campus, because he had only hung out with the Strilondes for three measly days, and all of them already knew about it, like some information-starved, papparazzi ass, peeping Tom freaks, and, wait, fuck, the Styx. Goddammit, the Styx; amid his inebriation and a fuck load of personal matters, he had forgotten all about the pictures that he had posed for right next to Dave, an arm across his shoulders, their tunics literary mirrors, Dave at his side for the better portion of the night, before Pyrope made an appearance and ruined everything. Shit, everybody had seen the posts; that was why. This guy must’ve just walked into the campus, and was already putting his name out there. Jesus. 

“Goodnight.” He mumbled, stepping aside to let the guy through. Absently, and in a sort of out of body experience, he watched the man leave for all of two seconds before interrupting. “Hey, hold on, how do you know me?” 

In the hallway, the foreigner turned, green eyes locked on his face, and that gorgeous smile still perfectly in place. 

“I’m your neighbor across the hall. Ta-ta!” 

What, across the fucking hall? For the longest time, he thought that that room had been unoccupied. Had that changed recently, or had he simply never noticed movement in there before? No, that couldn’t have been it; he found it highly unlikely that a man like this, not his type by leagues, but still worthy of drawing attention regardless, would’ve passed by unnoticed, especially with an ass like that, perfectly round, as if he squatted a hundred times every morning just to keep it in shape. No way. Walking into the kitchen, he guessed that this would be his life now; greeting strangers in the hallways and bumping into them all across campus, in every single class, in every single building, attractive people out here speaking to him. Had he really reached that level of notoriety already, or would he be able to coexist peacefully with his new social status? He had no idea how to go about this. A new neighbor. 

Very mindful of who he had just recently become, the following morning had him going to class with his head down, down at the ground, no eye contact with or even presence acknowledgement of anyone, only dodging the incoming students who stood in his way by the shoes that came into view. Extremely effective; he managed not to bump into a single soul all the way to his class, where a pair of white Nikes awaited, crossed over each other, by the open doorway. He looked up. 

“Hey, Karkat.” Dave spoke while pushing himself off the classroom door frame, arms uncrossing from over his chest, and dropping to hang loosely at his sides. “What are you doing for lunch today?” 

His heart skipped, but Dave wasn’t asking him out, was he? After everything that Dirk had said about straight men not always being straight, now he felt very paranoid about every single supposition that he had made in the past regarding Dave. As far as he really knew, Dave was none of the things that he had always thought, which was both anxiety-inducing and very relieving. He couldn’t really assume anything, only take what Dave said at face value and roll with it. To show a cool and detached sort of disinterest, he shrugged. 

“I’m going home, probably. Why?” 

An eyebrow over the rim. 

“Do you live with someone?” 

Jealousy, maybe? Skewed interest to know who that was? Wishful thinking from his part, most likely, but, in the scrambled noodles of his brain, he’d allow himself the benefit of the doubt. He squinted. 

“Yeah, I live in a dorm; eight assholes share a floor with me.” 

“No, I mean, do you already have plans with them? Because I’ll just ask you for dinner, then.” 

Alright, okay,  _ maybe _ he was being asked out on a motherfucking date, and maybe he wasn’t; either way, he wouldn’t panic. No panic, Dave just wanted to hang out, probably, and not with two arms around him, and not an inch away from his mouth, and not speaking into his hair. This was going to be just two dudes having dinner together while one of them stared dreamily into the other’s face and the world stopped spinning for a while, immortalizing the two of them in a time-capsule until their orders arrived. It’d be fine, it wasn’t a date; two guys sharing a table together, a candle in between them, their Nikes meeting underneath the hanging cloth that covered their legs. It wasn’t a date. Holding his breath, he shook his head. Dave almost smiled. 

“So, can I have you for lunch? We’re going to Wendy’s.” 

Oh. Okay. Long exhale, because it was a goddamn fucking group hang  _ again, _ always, and always, and always, and God,  _ God! _ , but, hey, it was fine. It was fine! At the very fucking least he was being asked, wasn’t he?, by none other than Dave fucking Strider himself, so he’d take it. A group hang, sure, that sucked hairy monkey balls, but a group hang with Dave nonetheless, a reason to even consider it. Plus, he absolutely adored the way that that last question sounded in Dave’s voice, and stored it in his memory bank for later. Very casually, and trying not to show too much disgust, he nodded. 

“Sure, Dave, if that’ll make your fucking day.” 

A half-smile in response and Dave was absolutely gorgeous. 

“Yeah, it will. See you at noon.” 

Dirk was already in the classroom when he walked in, but not at his usual seat; weirdly, he found Strider in the very center desk of the row, one ankle up to rest on his knee, and his other leg stretched out across the aisle ahead. The sight alone had him very suspicious already, and deeply disinclined to cross in front of Strider for his usual seat, which, now, would’ve been right next to the man, so, instead of doing that, he relinquished what he knew for a safer spot near the end of the row, six seats away from Strider again. Ultimately, their distance had remained unchanged, though it felt weird to be looking at Dirk from the right side now. 

Anime shades glanced in his direction. 

“Do I have cooties, Vantas? What’s wrong with you?” 

“We have literally always sat this far away from each other, dickhead;  _ you’re _ the one being weird and showing up in the middle of the row. What’s wrong with  _ you?” _

“Stop being a wriggling little baby and sit the fuck closer.” 

“No. Why?  _ You _ sit closer.” 

He was very confused. 

“So the row ahead doesn’t know our business, unless you don’t give a shit about that. Do you?” 

His heart skipped. Alright, was this going to be about Dave, then? Was that why Dirk cared so much to keep it private? Shit, he wished he could’ve asked without letting the others know, and that was Dirk’s point exactly, wasn’t it? Dammit. He pressed his lips together, glancing down at the notebook ahead of himself, and that was, yes, that was perfect. Exactly what he needed. Ripping a page out, he quickly scribbled his question on it, crumpled it up, and tossed it at Strider six seats away. It hit him on the shoulder, fell to his lap, and, with a very delicate crease between his pretty brows, he picked it up to read it. When anime shades glanced back at him, they could’ve hid Dirk’s entire face from view, and he would still have been able to read him perfectly, the absolute disdain that tainted the aura that he emanated very hard to miss. He felt his own face warm up. 

“Maybe, if you make it about him.” 

Heads in the row ahead turned, but not all the way back at them, only to each other, to whisper and murmur among themselves, far too low to understand. It made his blood run cold, their concealed gossip coursing through him like venom. His status really had taken that high of a leap, huh, to the point where he had to sit closer and whisper back to Strider, their business a whole lot more interesting to the general crowd all of a sudden. Fucking shit. 

“Well?” Dirk was waiting. 

As his face burned alive, he got up and moved to the closest desk to Strider, reluctance in every single muscle of his body, but determination pushing him through it regardless. He sat down and ignored the cocky half-smirk that radiated very brilliantly off of the guy, his stupid Tom Ford cologne a lot stronger from this close. 

“So?” He whispered. 

“So we’re going to Acid Mushroom this Friday and I’m picking you up at six.” 

“Acid Mushroom? That shitty, shitty ass-fuck club downtown, or literal fucking, like, drug-trippy, mushroom-induced hallucinogenic experiences? Because, honestly, Dirk, neither sounds good. I mean, why are you even going there? That place sucks.” 

“It really doesn’t.” A snort. “You’ve never been.” 

“Clearly, because I’ve got taste.” 

“The only thing you have is prejudice. That place is fine; it only gets a bad rep because of whiney little rich boys used to gold-plated toilet seats and coatrooms with a servant inside, like, who gives a shit? They have good music.” 

He shifted in his seat, the prickling sensation on his cheeks still there. 

“Is  _ he _ going?” 

“Who?” 

A very pointed glance at Dirk, and the message got across perfectly. 

“Yes, he is. Of course he’s going.” 

His throat closed, swallowing dry; this wasn’t a good idea. No, this was bad. In the last four days, he tried flinging himself at Dave two embarrassingly unsuccessful times, both to his incredible relief and ultimate dismay, and he was dead sure that if he were to drink around Dave again, much of the same would repeat itself. It was a game of chance at this point; how many rounds of Russian Roulette would it take for him to finally eat some lead? He wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, despite what his recent behavior might’ve wrongly suggested, and going this Friday would only further the rabbit hole. He was good on that; self-improvement required certain closed doors, and this was definitely one of them. 

“Yeah, you know what? I think I’m gonna pass on this one. Thanks, though.” 

Dirk snorted. 

“Sure, yeah.” 

“No, dude, I’m serious; I don’t want to drink around him anymore. I get weird.” 

“You get real and sincere. Are you afraid of him finding that out?” 

“Yes!” A whisper that was just barely threading the needle here, almost too, too loud. Heads ahead turned to face one another, and he quickly recomposed himself, clearing his throat and leaning back into his seat, eyes staring blankly right ahead. “Yes, of course I am. Now go fuck yourself.” 

A shrug in his peripheral. 

“I think you should just go for it, man. You’ll be surprised.” 

Here he swiveled around to face Dirk’s profile squarely, a kind of fire burning hot in the center of his chest. 

“Look, dude, you really gotta stop saying that shit to me, because we’re not all tall and handsome like you, alright? I’m sure you had a great time converting your fake straight guy with your built body, but I’m not you, Dirk. I’m a fucking goblin, okay?; I live under floorboards and I eat trash off the streets. Dave’s not into this, and I get it; that’s fine, but I can’t keep putting my ass on the line every time we hang out, man. Give me a fucking break here.” 

A minute shake of the head from Strider, ending in a three-quarter glance in his direction. 

“Bro, this is far past the point of it being a matter of attraction. You really think Dave gives a shit what you look like? What anybody looks like? In the dark, he’s not going to see you, and you won’t see him, either. You don’t think he’s itching to get off, man? I mean, really get off, the way adults do? You two are in the same virgin boat here, Vantas; what are you waiting for? You’ve had countless opportunities this last week, but threw them all away like garbage, I mean, Seven Minutes in Heaven, the Styx, Saturday in the kitchen; what’s going on? What are you  _ doing? _ Listen, one night is all it takes for you to get over your stupid fairytale and see shit how it really is; hungry, possessive and disgusting. Hey, maybe you’ll love it; maybe you’ll love everything about it and even come back for more, and maybe you won’t; what matters is that you’ll know what it is, you’ll know how it feels. Whether or not you’re a fucking trash eater or you think you’re not his type is inconsequential to the end result; what’s really in game here is your availability and how down you are for it. Seriously, if you play your cards right, I’m sure he won’t even think twice.” 

A one-night stand with Dave Strider, oh, Dirk had no idea how much he had thought about that; how often it plagued his dreams and had him panting in bed, twisting the covers. It had always felt so out of reach; such an impossible occurrence, like a myth that he continuously told himself just to feel better on rainy days, when life felt a little too empty, and everything that he strove for seemed meaningless. Now here he was, having every single misguided impulse that had ever crossed his mind validated and encouraged by the man’s brother himself. It was insane, this whole thing; Dirk even knowing about his feelings for Dave at all, and, worse than that; worse than slapping his face and telling him to get his shit together, the guy was  _ coaching _ him on how to go about it. Clearly, Dirk was a very practical man with reason completely overshadowing any feeling in his plans, but Karkat didn’t think that he was the same in that aspect, able to separate his gooey emotions from pure physical sex. Maybe, if it wasn’t Dave, he could’ve tried it, but it  _ was _ Dave, and even thinking about it already had him sweating, heart racing. Of course, Dirk  _ could _ have been right, and this one time experience could be exactly what he needed to get Dave out of his system, but, on the other hand, it could possibly just ruin his entire life and bring down every single barrier that he had built for himself, much like a bomb thrown at his doorstep. Again, it was a gamble with far too much at stake to make him feel comfortable playing his dealt hand; the line between success and total annihilation very, very fine. 

“Yeah… I don’t know about all of that. I’d rather just be friends and see where that takes me.” 

“It’s not taking you anywhere, and, anyway, that’s not how you feel after two martinis.” 

“Maybe not, but it’s how I feel right now. We’re already having lunch together today, like, that’s enough for me, dude. I’m good with that.” 

One delicate brow up over the sharp rim. 

“If you think that’s where it ends, you’re wrong; Dave’s determined to be your friend. He’s not stopping at lunch one time, be sure of that.” 

What?

“What? He’s what?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know what you told him last Saturday, but he’s got the impression that you need a friend, and he’s not letting that go. John already tried talking him out of it, but it just made him want to do it even more, so watch out for that.” 

Last Saturday, in the kitchen, standing between Dave’s thighs and breathing in the Dior cologne that he wore, with two arms around his back and his face on Dave’s neck; God, he couldn’t remember anything else, much less what they had talked about, only that Dave had pissed him off and been very sweet all at the same time. What the fuck had he said about his friends to have ever given that impression? He didn’t even have any fucking friends. Oh, shit, had he said that? Dammit, he knew it was far too good for that to have been true, for Dave to have genuinely wanted to make friends with him for any other reason than pity. It was kind of sad and pathetic, sure; he was well used to both of those aspects ruining his life, but what really got to him was how Dave thought to have been doing him a favor, being his friend, as if he were a beggar on the streets collecting friendly change. What gave him the right to look down from so far up above? It hurt, and also infuriated him. On a side note, by the way, fuck Egbert, like, on the real, fuck him for trying to get Dave to not do it. Why was he against that? What was so wrong with being Karkat’s fucking friend? With his heart racing, he had no idea how to feel right now; his claws dug into his palms. 

“Tell Dave I can’t make it for lunch today.” 

“Good call.” 

That was the only time that he had ever agreed with Dirk Strider, and honestly didn’t care to know why. 

For lunch, he just had whatever they were serving at the cafeteria, and ate it sitting alone in a corner, not because he didn’t know anyone here, but because everybody seemed to already be accompanied by a friend or a classmate that he either had never been paired up with for a project before, or simply wasn’t very well acquainted with. That was to say, because Egbert was out of the picture and would be forevermore from now on, no one that he knew was really out here by themselves, which was fine, and he didn’t mind it at all; his phone existed for a reason. He propped it up against his glass of water and put earbuds on. 

Halfway through his plate and ten minutes into a video, a text message reached him, the number that sent it unknown. It was short, and he could read it fully in the drop-down notification window. 

see you at dinner then

His heart skipped a beat and his breath ceased, but he didn’t show any outward reaction to it, because no one in his vicinity needed to know what had just happened, or how monumental it was that he had just gotten Dave Strider’s number. He saved it, obviously, not a complete idiot yet, but didn’t reply or view the message in full-screen as not to give himself away, only looking at it in his notifications bar, reading it over and over under Dave’s name. It was such a high, staring at it, knowing that he could now reach Dave at any moment, even call him unprompted when the fuck ever; he felt as if in one of his stupid daydreams, where he and Dave texted constantly, sending each other ridiculous pictures and long voice messages when two seconds apart. God, the thought of Dave’s voice in his phone, recorded in a timeless clip to be listened to on repeat until he fell asleep; what a fucking dream. Taking his half-eaten tray to the nearest trash can, he decided not to show up tonight either, to whatever restaurant it was that the Strilondes were going to; maybe then Dave would text him more. 

Half-past six and still nothing; no texts, no calls, nothing. It was fine, he was patient. He was good. Hidden in the comforts of his own bed, buried deep under the covers, he scrolled through the Styx tag on Instagram, tapping on and full-viewing the pictures that he had been in, all of which featured Dave in some way, posing right beside him, grabbing him by the shoulder, pulling him close with an arm around the neck, his own body pushed awkwardly against Dave’s side, his free hand hidden away behind Dave’s costume, as if afraid of touching him back. He was  _ smiling _ in those pictures; him, smiling. Seeing that was a real experience, a true detachment of the being, where he could barely recognize his own damn self, with white makeup under his eyes and a smile on his big, round, chubby face. He looked fucking ridiculous, drunk and stupid under Dave’s wing, leaning a little too easily into his personal space, but, still, right now, couldn’t help staring at them altogether; at where Dave’s hand clasped his naked shoulder and their bodies met, pushed together, the warmth of the club amid the crowd, the sweat on Dave’s skin making his own glisten, the exchange of glitter between each hug. 

God, the hug; in the club, so brief, but, in the kitchen, so, so, so much better; cradled by Dave’s thighs, the hand that touched them on the warmth of his pants, over the firmness of his muscles, running up to his hip, the crease where thighs met it. He breathed in, incredibly hot under the blanket all of a sudden, sweat budding on his forehead, the pit of his being beginning to shift. Dave’s arms around him, nose in his hair, roses intoxicating his mind and Jägermeister stinging his tongue; he could’ve kissed Dave like that, so close, to show what he had been missing, the warmth of his body, the softness of his lips. What would they have felt like? Different than Dirk’s; fuller, pursed, ready, kissing back and his stomach churned, but his mind raced; not Dirk, Dave, holding him, pulling him close, their lips pressed together, a kiss that landed squarely on his face, strong, leaning his head back, and then what? He shut his eyes, breath coming in short, Dave grabbing his hips and sliding off the stool, keeping him close, grinding down on him, the low of their stomachs pressed together, Dave’s pants paper thin, and, and, God, what would it have felt like, to have Dave’s cock against his crotch? He turned, burying his face on a pillow, his inner thighs tingling, but he wouldn’t do it. He wasn’t going to, not tonight, not after everything, but, what if Dave were here instead, laying on top of him, mouth on his neck and crotch on his ass, grinding on it, tugging on skin with round teeth? Soft lips on his pulse, sucking on it, leaving bright bruises for later, tongue on his flesh and teeth digging in; hands on his hips, pushing him down, the weight of Dave’s body sinking them into the mattress, cock on his ass, pressing against it, warm, warm, hot. 

A loud noise, scaring the shit out of him, his ringtone, making him practically leap ten feet into the air, his head off the pillow entirely, his body moving up out of shock. His face burned with the intensity of Hell’s five first layers as he scrambled for his phone, quickly rummaging through the covers for it, his heart beating out of his mouth, breath barely finding his lungs. His phone buzzed, and rung, and, flipping it over for the screen, of  _ course _ it was Dave; he had waited for this call all day long. He breathed in deep, or tried to, barely succeeding; his hands trembled, his face burned, and the attempts at breathing only turned into desperate gasps. It was fine. His entire body shook, he choked on his own tongue, and carefully set the phone down, eyes closed shut, focusing; in, in, in, in, out. Out. Again, heart slowly coming down, the buzzing by his arm massaging it. He breathed, his pulse slowed, and the ringing eventually stopped. He glanced down at his phone, at the missed call notification, and felt his heart sink down to his stomach. Dave would call again, surely; he had to. He had to. Grabbing his phone, he stared at the black screen, at its perfect abyss, hoping, and wishing, and waiting, and-- 

Dave called. He picked up at the first ring, heart skipping for a whole different reason than before. He said nothing. 

“... Karkat?” 

At Dave’s voice, he remembered how to speak.

“Hey.” 

“Hey, what floor do you live on?” 

“What?” 

“Your apartment floor, what is it?” 

His heart raced, face prickling. 

“Why?” 

Dave couldn’t have been outside, no way, no fucking way. Moving his head up, he craned his neck and raised himself up a bit, just a little bit, resting on an elbow, high enough to glance over the window ledge above his bed, but not enough to see the street. Fuck. It was dark, all the lights in his room were off; if he moved, would Dave see him? 

“No reason, don’t look outside; what’s your apartment number?” 

His eyes widened. Slowly, carefully, he moved to a sitting position, with both knees on the mattress and the top of his head raised up to glance out the window now, finally high enough to see the street. Nothing, no one; the usual cars parked by the curb, the huge tree on the left obscuring that end of the road, and the lazy traffic down the fork on the right. Okay, a long breath out; Dave was just fucking with him. Clearly. 

“Dave, I’m not going out for dinner, I’m busy.” 

“Busy with what? What’s more important than food at almost seven p.m. on a Monday?” 

“Everything. So much. I have an assignment due tomorrow.” 

“Then do it tomorrow, what’s the big deal?” 

A concealed eye-roll. 

“No, Dave, listen; I’m not having dinner with you tonight, I’m staying home. I have shit to do, aren’t you paying attention? God, how are you so fucking unoccupied all the time?” 

“I’m not, dude, I’m making time for this. Haven’t you heard of priorities? Carpe diem, Karkat.” 

He squinted out of suspicion, heart skipping a beat despite himself, face tingling with warmth; fuck Dave for making this sound like something that it wasn’t, making a show of how he, the Knight, was sparing an ugly beggar his precious time, the charitable man, so kind, so noble, tending to the unwanted. His throat closed, a scowl tugging on his forehead as Dirk’s words roamed about in his mind, still there, through his stupid fucking dreams, through the held-out hope all afternoon long that Dave would finally call. This wasn’t genuine, and he kind of didn’t want it. Not like this. 

“Carpe diem yourself, Strider, and stop pissing me off.” 

End of call. Dave’s name darkened on the screen, then faded completely, going to black as his phone locked itself automatically. One breath out, and his heart sunk to the bottom of his rib cage, phone hanging loose in a hand, legs folded underneath himself as he sat on them. He fucked up. Immediately, he knew that he had fucked up, because why would Dave still want to talk to him after this? They barely knew each other at all, and Dave was only doing what he  _ thought _ was a favor, reaching out as a “friend” to make his depressing life some mean company, an ulterior motive there currently elusive to him, but only for now. He’d get into it as soon as his chest stopped aching, as if three bricks had been trying to crush his heart. He was a fucking idiot. 

Maybe that was why he didn’t have any fucking friends in the first place. 

A noise at his door, so he turned, glancing at the dark wood as it moved, pushing open. His pulse ran cold, what? His own bedroom door, which he didn’t have a habit to lock while in the building, he thought, now, wrongly, flung open to shine light into the room and reveal Dave at the frame, a hand on the knob. His heart ceased beating. What the fuck? With one step forward, Dave walked in, his free hand immediately going for the light switch on the wall, as naturally as if he lived here, turning the overhead lights on. Karkat squinted. 

“Dude.” 

“Hey, I’m here to piss you off some more.” A nod of the head to indicate the hallway. “Let’s go.” 

“No! What the fuck?” He spoke loudly, moving to leave the bed, a deep scowl digging into his forehead. How the fuck did he know his number? “Dave, close the fucking door!” 

Another step further in, and Dave closed the door behind himself. That wasn’t what he had meant. 

“That’s not--”

“Karkat, chill out. We’re making pasta tonight, and you really don’t want to miss this, dude, I promise. Jamie Oliver wishes he knew the secret to my tomato sauce.” 

Standing immobile in the middle of the room, he stared blankly into the aviators that reflected his dumbfounded face back to him, one blink in disbelief. 

“Dave, get out of my fucking room.” Spoken slowly and with the appropriate amount of threat injected into each word, which was to say a lot of it; as much as he could muster, in fact. 

A tilt of the head in response, Strider standing in front of the door now, one thick eyebrow over the rim, hands hidden in his letterman pockets. 

“I’m only leaving with you.” 

“I, God, Dave, I don’t, I don’t  _ want _ to see you right now. Can you please fucking go, dude?” 

A crease behind the aviators, only partially covered by lush blonde bangs. 

“Is this about Saturday?” 

The question hit him like a knife to the heart, cutting through skin and bone alike and punching him completely breathless. There was so much wrong with Saturday that he wasn’t even sure what Dave was referring to exactly; the hug, the weird similarities to his first kiss, how brusquely he had freaked out at the end of the evening, what they had talked about before then, and anything else, honestly. He turned, unable to stare at himself any longer, his knees growing weak, heart quickly jumping to pound him in the ribs. If that gave Dave the very correct impression that he did  _ not _ enjoy the topic, then good; the sensible thing would be to drop it. Tough luck, though. 

“Karkat, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such an asshole that day.” Voice soft, small, and he hadn’t expected an apology here, but that wasn’t exactly unwelcome, either. In silence, he listened, his face hidden toward the wall. “I didn’t mean to interrogate you like that, it just kind of came out that way. I mean, yeah, I  _ was _ prying; I wanted to know more about, you know, the, uh, the Styx, and I know that’s fucked up of me, I know, I’m sorry. What happened sucked, it totally did; you told me that in confidence, and I acted like a dickhead, making it all worse instead of helping you with it; I drew more than I should have out of you, and I’m sorry. I bled you dry, and I’m not doing that again, it’s too shitty.” 

Oh, God, Dave remembered absolutely everything about Saturday; he wasn’t even sure what the fuck he was talking about right now. The Styx? What happened at the Styx? Immediately, his heart punched him in the throat, a quick flash of the black stall door behind Dirk, the gold of his costume, and, fuck, fuck, fuck, he had told Dave about the kiss, he really fucking had. One shaky hand came up to cover his mouth as he sat down on the bed, eyes cast off into infinity, face petrified toward the back wall of the room. He remembered now, crying like a fucking wriggler, then getting really pissed; it must’ve been when Dave started questioning him about it, what else had happened then. He wasn’t sure, couldn’t exactly recall that part, only what had come next, the arm on his chest, the hands on his body, the closeness that they had shared. He was sweating. 

“I was really drunk, and that’s not an excuse for what I did, but, even then, I hadn’t meant to upset you, dude.” 

He shut his eyes, listening to Dave’s light footfalls come nearer, stopping somewhere at his right. A sound, the mattress bending, blankets shifting together, and Dave had sat down next to him. With both hands down at his lap, he turned to look at Dave, but found himself unable to stare at his own reflection right now, and, instead, kept his eyes down at Dave’s shirt, the sliver of black in between the two breasts of his red and white letterman. 

“Consider dinner as part of my penance.” 

He squinted, and, wait, no, hold on a minute. No, these were two separate events; drunk quarrelling with him on Saturday about, uh, the Styx was one thing, but forcing him into a very one-sided and honestly kind of fake friendship was something else entirely. The dinner was Dave pitying him for being a loser, the apology was Dave seeking atonement for the drunk interrogation. Two completely separate happenstances that Dave was trying to pass as one and the same to push him out of this room; no way. Slowly, he shook his head. 

“No, that’s not what this is. This is not penance for Saturday; it never was.” A glance up at the crease between thick eyebrows. “This is self-congratulation. From the very beginning, this is and has always been you kissing your own ass, Dave; how fucking noble of you to spare me a second, to make me dinner! A gentleman." 

"What?" 

"I'm not an idiot, Strider; I can clearly tell when two and two don't go together, because in what twisted world would you ever fucking hang out with me? We're not the same. The little stunt you pulled at the Styx with our costumes was cute, but I know when someone's full of shit, so, what is it? What's the real reason why you want me to go and have dinner with the bunch of you so bad, huh? Is it your public image? Do you want to look good and accepting, like you're one of us? Like you're not prejudiced, no, you can't possibly be, because there's a troll in your friend group? Grow the fuck up; I'm not doing this." 

The scowl on Dave's forehead worsened, deepened, with every word that he said; lines of indignation slowly grew on his face, his posture now changed to sit straighter, a degree away from Karkat in his disbelief. 

"What the fuck?" Dave finally said, and, look, outrage in his tone; that was good, it meant that Karkat had touched the correct nerve here. "Dude, you're fucking insane; where the fuck did you get that from? No, don't answer. Listen, I don't give a shit that you're a troll. I don't give a shit that you live in a decaying ass dorm with eight motherfuckers on your floor, or that you don't wear designer clothes, or that you barely have any social life outside of this campus, because none of that shit matters. It's stupid, it's just fabrication. Sure, you and I come from separate places, but we're not all that different. You don't know me, like, you actually don't; what you know are rumors about me." Voice stern, almost too serious, uncharacteristic of Dave, or, at least, of the image of Dave that he had in his head; maybe it was perfectly in character, he just wouldn't know. That didn't cut as badly as it could have, because he kind of already knew it, kind of already expected it. 

"You want to know why I give a shit about you, Karkat? Why I actually want you to have dinner with me and just fucking hang out tonight? Because you're not weird, dude; you're not some weird fan of ours, you don't put me on a pedestal, you're not in love with bro; you're normal. You're sincere, and honest, and, just, a really good time, alright?" 

His heart jumped, his brows shot up to his forehead, and, honestly, that kind of got him; a good time. In Dave's own words,  _ he _ was a good time. Okay, holy shit? He blinked, wide-eyed, watching Dave in the short silence that followed, the way that his cheeks slowly reddened under the bright lights of the room, spreading across his nose-ridge next, then his forehead, hidden beneath pale blonde locks and wide aviator shades. Dave Strider was blushing and his heart hammered against his ribs as if it could break them; this was the most adorable fucking thing that he had ever fucking seen and he could barely say a word about it, not one ounce of oxygen in his lungs, not one synopsis between brain cells, if he still even had any lost amid the noodles. He was going to pass out. 

"Sorry, I know that's too much, and I sound weird, but you're a no-bullshit dude, so there it is. I'm not taking it back. Look, you think I've got friends blowing up my phone, I know, but I really don't; it's like everyone on campus is in love with either bro or Roxy, and you'd think that shouldn't be a problem, right?, but it kind of really is. Hanging out with someone who's constantly asking about your brother is actually detrimental. You and I, Karkat, are friendless just the same." 

No fucking way. A blink, and he was perfectly fucking speechless. 

"So, are you coming? Can we go now?" 

A quick clearing of the throat, and he tried not to scream. 

"Yeah, just, let me, uh, a shower; I need a shower." 

In the bathroom with the door closed, he stared at himself in the mirror over the sink, at the size of his own eyes, round on his face, eyebrows far up his forehead, fully and thoroughly shocked. Dave had just opened a floodgate of so much, so much, that he could barely keep his thoughts straight;  _ everyone _ was in love with Dirk Strider? Somehow, that hit him first. He didn't want to believe it, not viscerally, a deep feeling in his chest absolutely indignant that people would just overlook Dave like that, only befriending him to get something on his brother. It was ridiculous; couldn't they  _ see _ him right there? Yet, every post online proved Dave's words, the cult that was Dirk's fanbase.  _ He was a good time. _ That hadn't fully registered in his brain yet. In Dave's book, he was chill, because, unlike everybody else, he was in love with the wrong Strider. Was that better or worse? Dave, friendless, seeking him out for connection; how the tables had turned. At least he didn't mind the loneliness, not so much anymore, used to it by now, but he had a feeling that it bothered Dave more than not, even if he was surrounded by family, even if he knew enough people to form a small army with; it wasn't the same. A genuine friend was something else, and it seemed that the two of them had that one guy in common. Well, until earlier today, when he had banished Egbert from his contacts list. Fucker. 

Instinctively, his hand went for the lock, but he stopped himself just short of turning it, a thought in his mind, Dave being right outside. Now, that was completely subjective and up to interpretation, but, if Dave were to come in, he thought, well, it just wouldn't be particularly terrible to him. He didn’t count on it, but still left the door unlocked, just in case. Just in case. A quick undressing and he hit the shower, eyes closed, his mind back on everything that Dave had said, the whole confession. A good time. God, why had that been so satisfying to hear? Dave  _ wasn’t _ pitying him, he was pitying himself; what a fucking turn around, and, also, what a fucking mood. Again, Dirk had been right about basically everything, which had him thinking, did that mean…? Hm. Dave agreeing to a one-night stand just because they were both so ready for it, but had no one to trust, a practical opportunity. Absently, he wondered what was it that Dave was doing right now; sitting on his bed, laying on it?, Dior all across the sheets. To think that he had almost touched himself on that very bed, a minute shy of Dave walking right in, acting as if he paid rent here, too. God, Dave would've caught him red-handed, literally, shaking under the covers, the one and only name on his lips. What then? Probably nothing; a lost friendship that had never begun, cut off far too early, a twist of fate, but maybe not. Maybe Dave would've stayed; maybe he would've closed the door and stripped down himself, Dirk's predictions right on the nail. 

He turned the water colder, shivering as it sprayed him, hugging himself to force his thoughts onto something else. Cold, cold, a growing urge to get out of here fast, and he proceeded to focus on that for the next ten minutes. No more of that horny nonsense, not with Dave so close; he really had to stop playing with fire. 

Wrapped up in a towel and looking ridiculous, covered all the way up to the shoulders, he decided that this was infinitely better than walking out of here with his bare chest out for Dave to see. God, no; the thought alone froze his stomach inside and sped up his pulse to his ears. No, this was fine, it would do; the ridicule was nothing in comparison to the alternative, the embarrassment. One breath out, and he pulled the door open, immediately coming across Dave, who sat at his desk now, on his expensive iPhone; an elbow on the table, both legs bent, knees spread apart, feet tucked underneath the chair, leaning back onto the seat. At his presence, the iPhone moved down, aviators now staring up at him. Despite the towel, he still felt completely fucking naked here, being seen like this, and it both poisoned his blood and lit a fire to his skin. He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out the first portions of clothes that he could reach, black on black on black. His brand. Chair scraping the floor, Dave's footfalls coming up behind him; he turned to see Dave stop by the wardrobe, curious to look into it. He didn't mind that; let Dave snoop around all he wanted, as long as he could get dressed in solitude. Circling Strider, he went for the bathroom. 

"What are you, goth?" Dave spoke just as he was about to close the door. 

"Yes." 

Door shut. He got dressed in two minutes, towel dried his mess of a hair, hung the towel over the shower door, and stopped, one inch away from the knob. He should probably brush his teeth. Yes, they were going to have dinner very shortly, and brushing his teeth now would ultimately be fruitless, but he'd rather do it than not, just because. A quick brushing, rinsing, mouthwash rinse, fingers through his hair, hands smoothing down his shirt, and Dave was talking to him again, through the door. He opened it to listen. 

"What?" 

No response, so he walked out, nearly bumping into Dave, because, apparently, they had both been going for one another. In both hands, Dave held out the varsity that he had gotten two years ago upon enrolling, for his excellent test scores and scholarship acquisition. He had never worn it; the red and white colors of their university far too cliché for him, something about showcasing his blood hue on his chosen outfit very imprudent to him. Not that anything would’ve happened, only that he’d feel weird letting others know of his very, very low caste within the other trolls; it was bad enough that he was beneath the humans already, no need to also be regarded as beneath every other troll as well. He cringed. 

"Dude, you have to wear this." 

"No, thanks; it's kind of the worst." 

"It's actually sick, and you know that, but you love to antagonize me, so just put it on. Let me see it." 

He pursed his lips in discontent, but decided against antagonizing Strider further to prove a point, that he didn’t always antagonize him, even though doing that was a form of antagonism itself. Slipping the jacket on, he remembered just how soft it was on the arms, thick and protective, keeping him warm. He fixed the collar around his neck and glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror, standing next to Dave, black on red and white, like brothers from parallel universes. The trademark half-smile was back on Dave’s face, also watching him, their reflections together. He turned back to Strider and moved over to the wardrobe again, for some socks and shoes. 

“Now you just need skinnier jeans, I mean, what are those, sweatpants?” 

He felt his face heat up. 

“Yeah, so what?” 

“The jacket’s already huge, dude; you need to balance it out.” Dave spoke while coming over for the other half of the wardrobe, ready to go through everything in there, he was sure, just for a pair of skinny ass black jeans that he’d take twenty-five minutes to find. Karkat cut ahead of him for the favor; he already knew where they were, pushed to the far back of the bottom drawer, never worn, not really. He had bought them about a year ago, in a desperate attempt to mimic Strider himself and his iconic choice of wardrobe, but they had made him feel too self-conscious, hugging his legs like that, shaping him up for view, so he had given them up quickly thereafter, never actually tossing them out in case of a relapse, he supposed, like this one. Taking the pants, he went for the bathroom again, fuck. 

When he came out, Dave was back on his bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress again, phone in hand. Aviators up, and thick eyebrows poked into view from above the rim. 

“You look good.” 

The compliment burned his very core and crawled up his neck, set his skin on fire, made his heart skip a beat and his body heat up deep into every single muscle. It was fine, though; it meant nothing, probably, except it meant everything to him and he almost even fucking smiled. Almost, holding it in instead, swallowing it awkwardly down. He rolled his eyes to manufacture disinterest. 

“Yeah, because I look like you in the wrong species.” 

A half-smirk. 

“Are you calling me attractive?” 

His heart raced, his face burned, and he wanted to fucking scream. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

A snort, good-humorous, the closest Dave ever came to laughing while sober, which he took as a win, despite the heat in his neck and the sweat on his hairline. With shoes on, they went for the door, Dave stopping by it for a second, ahead of him, not leaving. Instead, Dave turned to glance at him, making his brows rise. 

“Are we good, Karkat?” 

Huh.

“Yeah, dude, we’re good.” 

A heartbeat, the two of them staring at one another, him at his own reflection, and Dave finally nodded, turning to leave the room. 


	7. Acid Mushroom, side A

The first thing that he noticed at the Strilondes’ was that Egbert wasn’t there. That was a first, and he didn’t exactly hate it, to be honest. Had the four purged Egbert from their lives as well? That would’ve been interesting, but, given Roxy’s apparent involvement with him, he found it highly unlikely. Still, it was a thought that crossed his mind as he sat down at the isle and watched Dave and Rose cook dinner while Dirk and Roxy didn’t help at all; Dirk sitting at the table fiddling with a piece of hardware, or maybe a pile of old junk, Karkat wasn’t sure, and Roxy hanging by the sink talking to the other two. That didn’t seem particularly fair to him, but he didn’t mention it. A good choice, because, after dinner had been served and eaten, both Dirk and Roxy did the dishes while the other two sat around talking; Rose with a glass of wine in hand, Dave with some apple juice and a straw. All in all, the spaghetti was pretty delicious, and he didn’t regret coming one bit. He knew that he wouldn’t. 

Late into the night, Dave took him home in Dirk’s junkyard of a car. It was bizarre, actually, seeing Dave behind the wheel of that Frankenstein, or anyone other than Dirk, really, because, for some reason, he had been under the impression that the others didn’t drive; maybe because he had never seen them do it, but that might’ve been due to the ownership of the car instead, and the fact that they didn’t seem to have another one. Either way, as it turned out, he had been wrong about that. As Dave told him in the quiet of the night, through this dimly lit neighborhood, the first to get their driver’s license had been Roxy. She taught him next, then her sister, and, finally, he taught his younger brother. That had Karkat wondering if the teaching order here had been completely arbitrary, or if it followed the sequence which they came of age to drive, with Dirk as the youngest of the family, and, consequently, the last to take the wheel. He wondered, then, how old Roxy was; how old all of them were. He didn’t actually know. Dave was twenty-two, he told him, one year older than him, and the same age as Roxy, almost down to the day, except he was one day older than her. Dave Strider, the eldest of the family; he would’ve never guessed it. Then, Rose, exactly one year apart from her sister, hence why practically everyone thought they were twins. Finally, one year later, on Dave’s second birthday, his brother was born. To Karkat, this coincidental birthday shit was nothing short of a portent, but he decided against mentioning that. 

“Do you have any siblings?” Dave asked him, voice low, a comfortable calm between them. He glanced at his profile. 

“Adoptive, yeah, but they’re all back in Detroit.” 

At that, Dave turned to look at him, quick, but very, very pointed. 

“What? You’re from  _ Detroit?” _

“Yeah; two humans adopted me and other seven trolls for the tax benefits, and I don’t miss any of them.” 

Dave’s lips parted, but said nothing for a good, long minute. Trees whipped past, street lights blurred into one another and blended into one long strand of glowing yellow, shining through trees and leaves, coloring the tinted glass. 

“Shit.” Dave finally muttered. 

He shrugged, eyes glancing out the window. 

“Whatever; that was a long time ago.” 

Silence, the soft purring of the engine as they rode, tires on asphalt. At almost ten p.m. on a weeknight, the town was quiet; closed businesses down the street, very few lights still on in nearby residences, the busiest place a gas station by the intersection, the 7-Eleven within it, the Denny’s across the street, bright lights to cut through the darkness. Dave pulled up to the curb of his building, right at the entrance doors, the spot only used for drop-offs. Naturally, they glanced at each other, Ray-Ban shades on red eyes, and he had to set his jaw to keep from apologizing, from ruining the nice drive over. On a second layer slightly beneath that one, he had to fight the urge to lean over and kiss Dave on the cheek, thanking him for the very nice evening. He succeeded in not doing either of those things, and, instead, watched a small smile tug the corners of Dave’s lips a degree upwards, an incredibly beautiful sight. 

“Thanks for coming tonight.” 

“Thanks for having me.” 

He thought it wasn’t going to get so bad, this whole crush on Dave thing. It was manageable, currently, and it couldn’t get any worse, no, he didn’t think so. He actually really believed that they could be friends, like Dave wanted, and that it’d be fine; that he’d get over himself and coexist with Dave as good friends, having lunch with him everyday this week, hanging out with him in the hallways, getting off to him very late into the night and brushing it off ten minutes later, because he clearly hadn’t been thinking straight, and only ever felt that way when he was particularly lonely or when Dave was in sight. It was fine, it was controllable, he didn’t have to worry about it, or overthink the lingering glances, or the half-smiles, or the teasing, or the snarky comments. It was Dave, and he did that to everyone. Not that he had ever seen it happen to anybody other than himself, but that wasn’t the point; he wasn’t special, and, to reiterate, they were just friends. He sat next to Dave for lunch, walked next to him around campus, and now checked his phone while in class, recently added to the family group chat. If that meant something, it went over his head, because Dave had started texting him all the time now, and it felt like a dream come true. It  _ was _ a dream come true, but he only freaked out about it in the privacy of his own bedroom, and while sitting next to Dirk in ECE. In time, and the more they hung out together, Dirk began to receive weekly tickets to front-row performances of his unfiltered outbursts for Dave Strider, and he honest to god didn’t care what Dirk thought about that; it was simply a fact. 

“Something happened in your car yesterday. No, no, no, not like that, God, not like that, chill; I mean, we had a really nice time. Driving, just driving; it was nice. It was just us.” 

“Holy shit, Karkat.” 

On Tuesday. 

“We’ve been doing this thing where we tell each other about our lives and families and how it used to be back home, before college, and the people we used to know. He taught you how to drive, he told me that. You’re both from Houston.” 

“Yeah, sounds like you two have been making friends with each other. Cool.” 

On Wednesday in between periods, when Dirk was crossing the hallway. 

“He sent me three drawings and two songs yesterday. I sent him a YouTube video of dogs biting lemons. What’s happening?” 

“You’re friends; that’s what friendship is.” 

On Thursday. 

“He told me Lana Del Rey helps him go to sleep faster and that his favorite breed of dog are corgis. We fist-bumped yesterday, Dirk; I can’t go to Acid Mushroom tonight and ruin all of this. He’s never fist-bumping me again.” 

“Maybe if you don’t go, yeah, it’ll be ruined. Have you considered not drinking, if you’re afraid of doing something incredibly stupid, or inhumanely brave? Terezi’s not going tonight.” 

His brows shot up, his heart skipped. 

“She isn’t?” 

“No; it seems her clique is going on a road-trip this weekend, taking off right after class.” 

Maybe it  _ was _ safe to go, after all. As Dirk suggested, he wouldn’t drink, only nurse some juice for the duration of the party and act drunk, so the others wouldn’t notice his complete sobriety. He’d hang around Dave without acting weird for the first time in his life, take a couple of pictures with him, watch him dance, try his hand at pretending to be drunk dancing, too, and secure their friendship in a nice, level-headed, and fully conscious way. It’d be fine. 

Dirk picked him up at eight, he squeezed himself into the back seat between Roxy and the door, and they drove off into town, about fifteen minutes away, with no one on the streets and hardly any traffic at this hour. The radio was on, they were all singing to it, beers were being passed around, and he took one just to hold it, to pretend to have been sipping on it. Dirk had a steady hand on the wheel, and managed to not make him spill beer on himself while speeding downtown. Already, this was nice, despite Egbert being here. They parked beneath a big tree three blocks away and got out, empty beer cans tossed in the trash, the half-empty ones being chugged very quickly for disposal. Two sets of eyes found his own can, and then his face. 

“C’mon, Karkat, drink that before someone sees it.” 

He breathed in sharp, watching the intensity of Roxy’s pinks on his eyes, and the worry in Egbert’s face as he glanced around; Dirk and Dave finishing off their own respective cans while Rose tossed hers into the trash. With his heart pounding him in the ribs, he knocked the can back and drank it all in one go; horrible and disgusting, it burned his throat on the way down, warming up his stomach when it settled. He threw the empty can in the trash, felt his head spin for a second, swallowed down immediate vomit, and straightened himself to follow the others down the street. It was fine, he wouldn’t drink more than that. Dirk killed a second can before taking off with them. 

On the outside, Acid Mushroom looked about as sketchy as he had expected it to look; a two-story building with black, cracked paint on the walls, windows on the second floor, and one wide wall as the entrance, a small metal door behind a big, broad man. The bouncer, surely. Next to him was a lined up group of people handing him their respective IDs for entry; after the inspection, Karkat supposed, of their birthdays, some got paper bracelets on their wrists while others got in with no penalties. Under legal drinking age, probably. He was set for the end of the line, walking toward it already, when the others veered off course for the bouncer instead, seemingly cutting ahead of absolutely everyone here. Fucking ballsy, but he said nothing about that, staying close to them instead. The bouncer noticed them incredibly easily in the partial darkness that the one single naked bulb on the wall by the door provided him, and neglected the next in line in order to turn and look at them, the scowl on his face made worse by the poor positioning of the light beside him; dark, deep shadows on his forehead, over his eyes. 

“Hey, Judge.” Roxy greeted easily, a nice smile on her face. Was his name actually Judge? No fucking way. “We’re finally here.” 

With a dismissive grunt, the bouncer took one of the strips of paper in his hand and motioned for Dirk to approach. 

“You guys can go in.” Judge muttered carelessly, wrapping the bright slip of paper on Dirk’s left wrist, loose enough not to hurt, but tight enough not to slide right off his hand. Incredible; they got to cut ahead of everyone and wouldn’t even be carded while doing it. 

Roxy pushed the door right open and let herself in, having the other humans follow her promptly into the club. Karkat, however, waited a second longer for Dirk, watching how passively he accepted this one handcuff link to his arm, locking him away from every single drink that he must’ve been itching to have at this place. A pity, though Karkat wasn’t particularly against letting Dirk take a glass from his hand or two. Solidarity. With Dirk’s bracelet set in place, the bouncer turned to him next, two lifeless eyes suddenly fixing their attention on him. 

“Who are you?” 

His blood ran cold. 

“He’s with us.” Dirk quickly clarified, motioning loosely to him. 

Without another word, Judge extended an arm in his direction, palm up. Right, his ID. He handed it to the man no big deal, a few months too late for the law to have been able to give him a paper bracelet, too. Judge disinterestedly examined the document, then gave it back to him, turning around to continue carding the line. 

“Have fun.” Another mutter. 

Past the black metal door, Acid Mushroom was an entirely different reality; a short, dark, and relatively quiet hallway soon led them into a tall, wide room where music blasted from everywhere, overhead and sideways, people danced in one big crowd, and neon lights lined the ceiling in changing colors that painted their clothes and shone on their faces; Dirk’s hair absorbing the most of it, his skin following suit. He took Karkat’s arm and promptly dove into the crowd of dancing people, pushing past trolls and humans alike, not stopping to enjoy the music, his obvious goal being the bar right now. The others were nowhere to be seen so far, but Karkat had a feeling that they’d run into each other soon enough. 

The beat of the music reverberated through his rib cage and made his entire body shake as he followed Dirk deep into the club, watching the moving lights overhead, the intricate neon designs on the walls, the glowing face paint and glow stick jewelry that everybody seemed to have been wearing, and the shirtless barmen behind tall counters that prepared people’s orders while dancing to the music, their chests glowing with painted-on handprints and long finger-made streaks down their stomachs. Wait, was this a gay bar? This felt like a gay bar, the whole half-naked, dancing men thing, which he wouldn’t be surprised, given Dirk’s sexuality. Dave and Egbert, however… Hm. Glancing around the other bar counters and tall plinths where people danced in fake cages, he noticed the women, too, dancing and whipping their hair to the music, except, unlike the men, they were all fully dressed. Okay?, he wasn’t sure what that meant. Strange, but, you know, whatever; maybe that was just how things were, a non-indicative of people’s sexualities here. At this point, he wouldn’t know. Dirk pulled him past the two busiest bar counters to a lesser populated one, where they certainly wouldn’t have to wait too long to get served, and squeezed himself up to the front, through the crowd, cutting ahead of pretty much everyone here. Shit; with a skip to his pulse, Karkat followed him, deciding to keep close rather than not, and, as he approached, Dirk turned to give him a glance, one hand finding his shirtfront to bring him closer. 

“Vantas, order tequila shots for us.” 

Right, the bracelet, sure. When the bartender looked at them next, he ordered two shots and two mojitos, just to keep Dirk satisfied for a while, because he knew that this guy chugged tequila shots like water. With a nod, and, honestly, a pretty handsome smile, the scantily-dressed man behind the counter turned his attention to the bottles below it and the glasses hidden from view. The guy worked, but Dirk didn’t seem to care for that; sharp lenses scanned the crowd around them on the meanwhile, surely in search of his family. Karkat found himself unable to spot them as well, the bright and colorful lights dancing above making it hard to see the ocean of people here too clearly. 

“We’ll find them soon.” He reassured Dirk, shouting over the music. In silence, Dirk nodded, turning back to the bar. 

He didn’t have his shot. Dirk downed his own in a single go, of course, and promptly took one of the mojitos for himself, while Karkat took his own glass from the counter, and did not have the shot at all. Not tonight, much less right now. Instead, he grabbed Dirk’s arm for attention, and motioned for the shot with a nod. A moment’s hesitation, Dirk clearly getting the message but not immediately acting upon it, seeming to process it for a second. He must’ve not been sure whether or not Karkat actually meant that. 

“Have it; I don’t want it.” He shouted. 

Without another word, Dirk downed the shot and proceeded to leave the bar, squeezing his way through the crowd, toward the dancefloor, deeper into the club. It was fine, it was the next logical step, and Karkat didn’t mind that, except he kind of wished that Dave would’ve been here right now, or anywhere within view. Not to say that Dirk’s company wasn’t great and all, but, well, Dave. Dave. He followed Dirk to the back center of the dancefloor, and, once Dirk stopped walking, seeming to have found a good spot to hang around, he pulled out his phone. A quick one-handed text asking where the fuck Dave and the others were, because only asking for Dave while everybody else was also lost would’ve been too obvious, and he watched the screen for a second, how quickly Dave’s status changed to online after that. His heart fluttered as the crowd around him danced, bumping him on all sides, the drink in his hand clearly in the danger zone, though he didn’t mind that, intently staring at the screen while the three dots bounced at the bottom, Dave typing. 

going to you dont worry

Okay, he actually believed that whole-heartedly, but, also, how? How did they know where he was, and if Dirk was even with him? Squinting, he pocketed his phone, glancing up to see Dirk going absolutely off the shits with a half-empty mojito glass in a hand. Quick, but, at this point, not all that surprising. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, pretending to dance, just to not stand completely still, and watched the crowd overhead, or as much as he could, not being the tallest guy around by even a mile. No familiar heads in sight that he could see, no hairstyles that he recognized, but Dave would find him, he knew it. One sip of his drink, very small and moderate, and his eyes fell on Dirk again, moving as if he were in a music video, while managing to keep the people that surrounded him a safe distance away, shoving them when they got too close, and really not giving a shit, because they’d never shove him back, and they didn’t. Bold, something that very few could pull off, and Dirk was very much one of them. Watching him dance was surprisingly educational. 

Halfway through the next song and two sips in, a hand on his shoulder, making him turn to see Dave and the others approach, drinks in their hands and flow on their feet; Roxy absolutely ready, coming in hot with moves of her own, shaking her hips and twirling around while Egbert did his best not to look like a nerd dancing for the first time ever, and Rose knocked back a glass with groovy shoulders and an impeccable sense of timing. Dave, next to him, with an arm across his back, pulled him into what he could only describe as a two-person dance when both of them only had one of their hands free, Dave with a glass of his own, except the contents of it were orange and red. Very pretty. Apples enveloped him from this close, as Dave’s side brushed against his own every other movement and the hand on his shoulder sometimes touched his face. It was electric, and he wished he could make it happen more often without immediately giving himself away. Incidentally, these guys had the neon makeup on somehow. 

“Hey.” He shouted, leaning closer to Dave, and having him reciprocate so their cheeks were practically touching. His heart sped off, but he ignored it completely. “Where’d you get that makeup?” 

“By the hallway door; there’s, like, a table full of this face paint stuff.” 

“Can you show me?” 

It wasn’t a ploy, he told himself; no, it wasn’t a ploy to get Dave away from everybody else for a small, private moment, because the club was fully packed, and nowhere would’ve been private. No, he just wanted some cool face paint that glowed in the dark, that was it, honest and true, and if Dave whispered in his ear for him to follow, and then took his wrist to guide him all across the club, then, well, that was just a bonus. He hadn’t asked for it. Navigating the club, the closer they got to the entrance hallway, the thinner the crowd became, until they weren’t bumping into people just to walk around anymore, and could actually breathe just fine, the air better ventilated over here, the people huddled over the tables rather than taking up space to dance. Dave brought him to an empty corner, where different containers with varying colors were laid out on a plastic table, and placed his glass down by them. 

“Oh, cool, this one has white.” Dave commented in passing, picking up the respective little pot for inspection. 

He wasn’t wearing the aviators, with neon paint on his face; two streaks of pink and blue under his eyes and a heart on his cheek, surely somebody else’s doing, the Ray-Bans resting on his head as to remain clean and safe. The pink accentuated the red of his eyes, the heart a target for kissing, the lenses on his hair reflecting the colorful lights that shone and moved up ahead, and, God, Dave was everything; the hair swept aside, the depth of his eyes, the thickness of his lashes colored purple under the black light, full lips that glistened with leftover alcohol, fuck. Fuck. Karkat had to force his eyes down at the table just to focus on what they were actually here for, the goddamn face paint that made Dave even more attractive than he already was. Shit. One breath in, one breath out; he grabbed a container with neon green and brought it up for a look, just to seem like he was doing something productive instead of openly staring. 

“White looks good on you.” 

He glanced up again, an eyebrow raised with his interest, pulse skipping. 

“Yeah?” 

“Is that green? Alright, alright; I’ve got the perfect idea.” 

Dave took the green from him and proceeded to stare him dead on, making his heart jump and his eyes widen with the suddenness of it. Not that he minded it, though, really. In silence, red eyes inspected his face, every inch of it; from his eyebrows, down his nose, to his mouth, and back up, making him feel exposed, so abruptly intense and serious. Secretly, though, he kind of loved it; he ate that attention the fuck up and reveled on the way it warmed his face and filled his chest with something lighter than air. One hand up, and Dave brushed his bangs back, fingers in his hair, electrifying. Instinctively, his eyes wanted to close, but he fought the urge with every fiber of his being, keeping them wide open instead. Fuck.

“Can you hold this for me?” 

Yes, God, yes, for you anything; obediently, he complied, and kept his bangs out of his face for Dave to work on. Obviously, Dave was going to paint his forehead, which was fine, and not his idea in the first place, so not part of the ploy, either. It wasn’t ill-natured, because he hadn’t done anything so far, just kind of stood here. With some neon green on his fingers, Dave touched his forehead, the space between his eyebrows, drawing what felt like upward patterns, three of them that dripped down his nose ridge twice, on purpose, Dave making little dots on his skin. Then, in white, he seemed to circle the three initial designs and make more dots around them, up his forehead, to his hairline, or kind of near it. Dave was close, very close, focusing on his face, red eyes sharp with attention, aimed down at him, and he was swimming in roses, drunk with apples, feeling Dave’s breath on his skin and a warmth in his chest. His free hand curled into a fist, and his eyes closed to keep him from acting on any of his stupid fucking ideas right now. This was peak friendship, and he really couldn’t afford to cross the line here. Breathing deeply, he felt the paint dots on his face halt, and end; Dave’s job seemingly done. One second later, he opened his eyes to Dave watching him in silence, red eyes appraising his forehead, the overwhelming attention on himself absolutely addictive. He could live like this. 

“Sick.” 

“Can I see it?” 

At that, Dave pulled out his phone, and handed it to him. Reflected on the black of the screen, he saw it, the three leaves between his brows, lined with white and seeming to project little white dots all the way up his forehead. It looked really fucking nice. 

“Dude, I look so much better than you.” 

“Yeah, blame Roxy for that.” 

“Thanks, Roxy.” He spoke while handing the phone back, a half-smile on Dave’s face as he pocketed it again. 

He had promised not to drink enough to get drunk tonight, and had mostly succeeded at it so far, slowly and carefully nursing his one mojito for the initial portion of the party, until they found out about the neon drinks, which were the main reason why so many people had come tonight, and, when Dave got them all shots, it was over; they were so good. Sugary and sweet, burning on the way down, as was custom, but leaving fruity aftertastes behind, thick like syrup, almost addictive, something that he had never seen before. In all honesty, he had no idea what the fuck that was, and told himself not to have any more of it; stuff like this was very dangerous, good enough to have people down it easy and keep going in for more, getting wildly drunk in the process without even realizing it. The world was already starting to blur and sway for him, indicating that one beer, one mojito, and one incandescent shot were enough, but Dirk kept asking for more, and Dave, his loyal servant, obliged every single time. Delicious and beautiful, they were irresistible; the vibrant color of the liquid drew them to the glasses like moths to a lamp, how beautifully the neon shone under the black light, all different colors leaving trays behind as they moved the drinks around. It was fascinating, and had them all entranced; after the third, Karkat lost track of where he was for an entire song, only able to see the dancing lights above and the blurred crowd of people that came and went all around him, a moving picture with him in the middle of it. It was fine; all he really did was dance by himself, every face a blur, every human the same one. He danced to Katy Perry as if nobody else existed and didn’t know regret. It was a parallel reality. 

A hand on his arm, and someone was next to him, catching his attention; he had to scowl and squint to place the five shaky visions of the same guy together in one, to see Dave right there, speaking over the music, something about him disappearing and how he shouldn’t do that. He snorted, finding that kind of hilarious all of a sudden, but didn’t fight Dave while getting pulled through the crowd, supposedly back to where everybody partied together. He couldn’t really focus, couldn’t very well spot anyone that he knew, and shrugged off Dave’s comment, dancing right here instead, his surroundings seeming to have been the exact same ones than a second ago. It didn’t matter; he felt the beat in his chest, shouted some lyrics over his head, and moved his body exactly how his soul desired it. True transcendence. Shaking his head and twirling around, he shouldered at least five people in his immediate milieu, didn’t care, and just grew more wild, hands in the air, object permanence completely disabled. He jumped, shouted, tripped, and bumped into someone who caught him before he fell, who grabbed his arms and pulled him back to his feet. Of course, as he turned around to see who it was, Dave stood right there again, grinning like a fucking idiot, but, also, a gorgeous fucking idiot, with round cheeks and bright eyes. Beautiful, beautiful; he yanked his arm away from Strider’s hold, screaming something over the music that he forgot immediately as he said it. Nonsense. 

“I know.” Dave replied, which he ignored completely. 

The music selection here was insanely good, just like Dirk had commented earlier this week, bop after bop, all songs with deep beats that hit him hard in the chest and moved his body for him; drinks being passed around overhead, his awareness of Dave’s presence next to him slowly becoming present, his energy to keep on dancing like this starting to run out, and the crowd beginning to grow into focus. Egbert offered him a water bottle, and he chugged the whole thing in a single go, thirstier than a troll who had accidentally eaten slime for breakfast. He was fucking exhausted, but remained on his feet anyway, moving and swaying with the crowd, jumping occasionally when the beat dropped and everybody collectively lost their shits for a while. It was fun, and, because he had stopped with the shots and started with the water at seemingly the right time, the evening didn’t completely go to shit; his friends came into focus, dancing with each other, and he knew where he was, by Egbert and Roxy, whose bodies touched far too much to have just been friends. Turning away from them, because, really, who deserved this?, he decided to set his attention on somebody else instead, the only one who actually fucking mattered, and who had been here the entire fucking time.  

Next to him, Dave danced like a perfect god; hair wild and disheveled as he threw his head to the side, neon running down his face with the heat of the club, skin glistening with sweat as he danced, and it was the hottest fucking thing that Karkat had ever goddamn seen. Fully unhinged, he stared, obviously and openly, watching how Dave moved his hips to the music, how easily his body fell into rhythm with the beat, how his head turned and flipped hair out of his face, clear off his eyes, two bright reds that found him in an instant, too easy, and that he stared into as if hypnotized. On a whim that filled his chest and made his blood sing, he grinned, big and wide, feeling his own cheeks round, face warm. In return, a smile, a genuine one with none of that holding back bullshit, but that was soon veiled by a glass with blue and green inside, as Dave sipped on it, head tilting up, red eyes fixed on his face regardless, watching him through a sliver that ran his blood hot, skin tingling, because Dave was so fucking stunning, and maybe Dirk was right; maybe they were both horny just the same, maybe Dave wanted him just as much, because what could possibly have explained Dave looking at him like this? Glass down, a tongue swiping over pink lips, and Karkat felt his eyes widen, heart hammering into his rib cage; this was too fucking much. A smirk, purposeful, trying to get under his skin with red eyes that smouldered him in heat, and Dave must’ve been doing that intentionally, because, goddammit, it worked. It fucking worked. Dirk was right, of course, what a surprise; without a single muscle in his body holding him back, he reached a hand up to Dave’s neck, clasped behind it, and pulled him down for a kiss, entirely successful this time around, one motion that had their faces pressed together, lips on teeth and skin, eyes closed and noses brushing. He held it for a second, breathing Dave in, then let go; a step back, heart punching him in the throat. Holy shit. 

Bright reds watched him blown wide. 

“You wanted to know how it felt like.” He lied over the music, even if partially, his own pulse rushing loud in his ears, Dave absolutely mute ahead of him. It was fine. This inebriated, he only felt the warmth of his own blood, and how much he already missed Dave’s mouth on his own, his thoughts already scrambling together for a second excuse. 

One blink, Dave seeming to come to, crashing back down to Earth, and refocusing on his face, red eyes entirely unreadable. Maybe they could practice it more, was his second excuse, and maybe he could show Dave something cooler than that, was his third, which was just going to be this again. He opened his mouth to say the first, but Dave kissed the words right out of it, meeting with his face again, just as hard and firm as before, but, this time, reciprocated, and it felt so much fucking better; the softness of Dave’s lips on his own, a hand on his face, warming up his jaw, holding him close and he could’ve fainted, knees weak, eyes fluttered shut. He steadied himself with a hand on Dave’s chest, fisting the front of it for balance, Dave’s tongue on his bottom lip and his entire body on fire, heart beating out of his mouth. He grabbed the side of Dave’s neck, parted his lips, and met Dave’s tongue with his own, his whole face burning, lungs punched right out of breath; this was everything. The deafening music covered up any sounds that managed to escape him, and obliterated the rest of the universe, only leaving the warmth of Dave’s chest on his own, the softness of the hand that cupped his face, and Dave’s tongue deep in his throat, making his heart race, and his body overheat. Yes, he felt the ramifications of that lower down; very aware of them, in fact, but really couldn’t help it; this was everything that he had ever dreamed of. 

Shallower kisses, more, soft on his lips, and a commotion seemed to brew nearby, someone bumping into them, making Dave part from him to see what it was. Still entranced, he didn’t immediately ignite with rage, and watched how desperately Rose pulled her sister and cousin by the arm, getting everybody to start moving through the crowd. The music was far too loud for Karkat to have been able to hear her clearly, but he did catch something about Jake being here; maybe she saw him, and that was why they were acting upon an emergency leave. Dave immediately expressed concern for Dirk’s whereabouts then, because he wasn’t around; in fact, Karkat didn’t remember to have seen him for the better portion of the party, and, surely, that notion must’ve just crossed Dave’s mind as well, from how worried he looked. Breaking out of Rose’s grip, Dave announced that he’d go looking for Dirk while everybody left the club; he’d meet them by the car. Okay, Karkat would miss him terribly, but they’d see each other again soon enough. 

Dave gave him a pointed look before turning around and diving into the crowd. What did it mean? He thought about that, replaying it in his mind over and over, all the while Rose pulled him through the crowd, and finally pushed him outside, far colder than in a building with other hundreds of people in his immediate surroundings. Did Dave want him to come with? No, he would’ve pulled Karkat along, if that had been the case. What had he been thinking about, then? The question hounded him as he walked down the sidewalk, down a couple of blocks from the club, the initial cold of the air numbed by the alcohol percentage in his blood. He didn’t remember where they had parked exactly, only that a tree was supposed to mark their spot, and, two trees down the road, it had to be the third one. A white car rested beneath its shadow, which had to have been it. He walked to it first, before telling anyone, just to make sure that he was right about it, when he caught sight of sharp anime glasses watching him from the window, and, well, he guessed that Dave was on a fool’s errand, then. Dirk opened the door for him, and moved over to the driver’s seat to make him space. In actuality, he hadn’t expected to find Dirk in the car at all; how long had he even been here? Karkat closed the door to his right. 

“We’re looking for you.” He began, voice level, possibly sounding a little nicer than he had intended to, but whatever; the best thing ever had just happened, and he was really fucking happy right now. “Why are you out here?” 

“I’m waiting for you guys.” Dirk replied, tone light and emotionless, anime shades moving away from his face to settle somewhere on his right. “It’s time to go.” 

Was it? He had no idea how late it actually was, and, anyway, why hadn’t Dirk told anyone that he had been waiting for them outside? Again, how long had he even been here? One deeper inhale, and there was something in the air, in the stuffiness of it, a different scent mixed in with the Tom Ford that was usually strong enough to take over the entire car. Sweat, sure, enough of it to have washed off most of Strider’s cologne, but something else, too; earthy and different, almost familiar. Had Dirk rolled in the dirt before locking himself in this car? One hand up on the steering wheel, and he still had the paper bracelet on; tank top wrinkled and soiled with sweat and spilled drinks, hairstyle perfect and absolutely untouched; Dirk didn’t look any different, and that was what tipped him off the most, but he ultimately decided against saying anything, in case he was wrong about that, which, as things usually went with Dirk, was most likely correct. 

The rest of the group joined them soon enough, all of them very surprised that Dirk was already in the car, and Rose quickly getting on her phone to text Dave an abort mission. To their inquiries, Dirk gave the same sort of vague answer, and mostly remained in silence, staring out the window as they waited for Dave to arrive. They didn’t buy it, not really, making disingenuous little comments on how weird that was, that he was already here in secret, all of which were completely ignored by the man himself, not giving them anything to work with. It was a fruitless venture, of course, trying to pry anything out of this guy, and their failure soon had Roxy giving up on the whole mystery to steer the conversation in a completely different direction, mainly the kiss with Dave. Yes, the worst thing that she could’ve possibly brought up while away from the dude, because they hadn’t even talked about it themselves yet, and Karkat didn’t want to say something stupid or overly emotional in case that Dave simply didn’t feel the same. The safest route was to not say anything, despite how badly his face burned, and how quickly his heart raced. Sitting directly behind him, Roxy moved closer to the backrest that he leaned on, her face poking from beside the headrest, a wide smirk rounding her cheeks and squinting her eyes, except he didn’t look directly at her, with his face turned to the window. From the corner of his eye, however, he could see Strider shoot him a look while the others hollered in the back seat. It was absolute Hell. 

“How was it, huh?” She teased, poking him in the arm. “I noticed you two were having a little too much fun in there. Is he a good kisser?” 

In silence, he rolled his eyes, trying to keep his oath. 

“Have I misjudged your character completely?” Rose commented from the back, sounds of clothes shifting as she most likely moved up closer, too. “I was under the impression that your affection ran for Dirk exclusively, but after  _ that, _ well, was I wrong? Was I actually wrong, then, or are you simply rebounding with the Strider who’s emotionally available? Because we both know that’s not Dirk.” 

“I like Dirk as a friend, Rose; stop being weird about that.” He damn near hissed, but did his best to keep the frustration out of his voice. Oath broken, though not irreparably; he remained glued to the window. 

“Has that always been the case, or was there ever a spark between you two? Sitting next to each other in class, whispering secrets, having lunch together?” 

“No! Dirk is my fucking friend, goddammit; stop pushing us together like fucking freaks!” 

A hum from Rose and barely concealed bursts of laughter from the other two. A seat away from him, in perfect silence, Dirk stared out his own window. Again, and still, on the very same page about this; good. Great. 

“So, last week…” Rose mused, making his heart beat out of his chest, because what about last week? He barely remembered anything that had happened then, only that wonderful hug in the kitchen, and, he supposed, the fuck-up at the Styx with Dirk, so which of the two was she going to bring up? Which did she even know about? His fingers were cold. “It was Dave, then? Has it always been Dave?” 

Whatever she was talking about, he wasn’t going to agree to it. 

“Rose, you’re fucking drunk; it was just a kiss.” 

“Oh, using my own strategy against me, are you? Very smart; so you did learn something in Heaven with me after all.” 

Her turn in Heaven, over a week ago? He couldn’t remember a single thing about that. Just as well, he supposed, looking out the window, where shadows moved, and one of them grew closer. Thank god for Dave. 

“You know, instead of talking about me, you should be talking about what Roxy and Egbert were doing on the dancefloor two minutes ago.” He spoke while turning around in his seat to glance at the three in the back, his one chance to change the subject before Dave got in the car with the rest of them, and he really wasn’t ready for a group discussion about the unspeakable. At his comment, Roxy’s eyes grew wide, Egbert’s face turned a deep shade of red, and Rose’s eyebrows moved up with her interest. Good; he had successfully driven their attention away from what mattered. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to do that in public, dudes. Well, sure,  _ maybe _ in that sketchy ass club, I guess, but still. You should’ve been charging people to watch it.” 

“Oh, Karkat, they never learn; they’ve been in love since seventh grade. At this point, it’s nothing but a losing battle.” 

“Listen, what we did is called dancing, alright?, and if you had a single idea how to do it, honey, you and Dave wouldn’t even be here right now.” Voice tilted higher with her cover-up, and what the fuck did that even mean? He felt his face burn from the mere implications of it to even retaliate, watching how Roxy noticed that, and grew a wide, victorious smirk on her face. “Anyway, did you like what you saw? How long did you stare for?” An obvious trap, laid out right in front of him like that. He squinted his suspicion. 

“Sorry, I was a little too busy to stare.” 

A snort from Egbert and hollering from the girls. A sound came from behind him soon thereafter, followed by a cold breeze that blew into the car, and he slid over to the middle seat to make some room for Dave, swiveling back around to sit like a regular person. At his right, Dave pulled the door closed, red eyes immediately fixing themselves on his younger brother next, on the side of Dirk’s face offered to them; thick eyebrows drawn together, jaw set, and Dave didn’t look particularly joyful right now. In fact, Karkat wouldn’t have been surprised if Dave reached across his seat to grab Dirk by the throat. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

Suddenly, the car was quiet, the atmosphere heavy; everyone in the back was silent. Without outward acknowledgement that Dirk had even heard his brother at all, he pushed the ignition button, and turned the car on. Karkat watched the two in his peripherals, staring straight ahead as best as he could, trying not to get caught up in the middle of this, whatever it was. As Dirk parallel parked out of the spot, Dave leaned back onto his seat, face turned away from the two of them. 

“Fucking text me next time.” A hiss, clearly seething with rage, though not that his smooth voice indicated it; Karkat could read the dissatisfaction on the tension of his shoulders instead, on his closed fists. 

He guessed that tonight would be spent on the Strilondes’ living room couch again. 


	8. Acid Mushroom, side B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW, I guess. Tags updated accordingly.

Out of the bathroom, he saw him, leaning on the wall directly across from him in this tiny ass hallway, partially hidden within the shadows of the club, the one path to the dark room only used for transit, safely out of the party. He froze comically at the sight, hearing the door shut behind himself, muffled by the beating of his own heart, ice in his veins, void in his lungs. Three and a half years, and this was how it happened, by the bathroom door of a dirty club, in a dark hallway haunted by the moans from behind the curtain and the booming music out the entrance. Perfect in its own way, indicative of their past together, nothing more fitting than ruin. Jake smiled, and he choked with chagrin for having remembered that just right, for never having forgotten it, actually, in the first place; the lips that he had studied so closely, the face that graced him with unending torment to this goddamn day. His eyes dropped down to Jake’s chest despite himself, the crossed arms over it, how thick they had gotten, how big his pectorals had become, and his skin burned, his jaw set. He knew this was going to happen at some point, the inevitable; with Jake back in town, it would only be a matter of time, because he hadn’t exactly been avoiding it. Regardless, part of him incandesced. 

“Hiya, Dirk.” 

He shivered, heart leaping up to asphyxiate; his name in that accent, memories of the past, old hauntings that had never moved on, the ghost in his soul. His throat closed. 

Jake pushed himself off the wall, arms unfolding for affability, a welcome and inviting posture as he shortened the distance between them even further, one step too close, into his personal space, and it was the most familiar thing that Jake could’ve ever done. Instinctively, he felt himself straighten up, shoulders back and head level, even if that meant staring squarely at Jake’s nose, because he refused to look up at him. After this whole time, Jake was still that one inch taller than him; how creative could the universe’s many tortures be. 

“It’s been a minute or two, hasn’t it?” 

He shuddered in concealment, eyes down at the mouth that spoke to him, at the round teeth exposed by a grin; the voice that shook his every bone and kissed his very ears. He breathed in, Jake’s cologne in his lungs, the earthy wood and fresh shrubbery scents, perfectly complementary, the late afternoon rain on a summer day, the dew shining on blades of grass early in the morning; an exhale and a curt nod in response. 

“A handful, more or less.” He replied, voice low, diligently keeping each word from slurring right into the other, the alcohol in his blood searing his chest open. 

“That’s right.” _Roight,_ a soft ball in Jake’s mouth, that stupid accent. He hadn’t been able to watch a single James Bond movie since high school. “I’ve heard you’re majoring in ECE. Quite spectacular, though I’m not particularly surprised myself. I’m in Business.” 

Finally, he caved, and glanced up to meet with the lively greens that watched him, the familiarity of the moment almost haunting. A Business Major, who the fuck didn’t know that by now? This chit-chat bullshit was too weak, would’ve never cut it; he knew Jake far too well for this to have ever worked, and maybe that was the point; maybe Jake just wanted him to play along, pretend that they were still in good terms with each other for a second here, just two old friends who had simply lost touch after high school now reunited. What a goddamn coincidence, huh, both of us here; how long has it been, three years and ten months? Time flies; I have two kids and a wife. After all, Jake loved nothing more than easy simplicity, and he had learned that the hard way. His blood boiled, jaw set. 

“What do you want?” He spat out through gritted teeth, dead and dry, rough enough to sand furniture. Fake pleasantries were unwelcome. 

The rashness of his tone had Jake wincing minutely, a shadow of hurt passing over his face, and he hated himself, he fucking hated himself; his arms burned, his neck split open, and he bit his tongue in self-reproach, copper down his throat. A rot in his stomach, acid pouring from organ to organ, and he’d soon disappear; just as well. Jake’s smile faltered, the shine of it dulled by the blow. He wished Jake would’ve punched his nose into splinters for having caused that. 

“Well, we’re enrolled at the same university, and running into each other--” 

“Jake, you followed me to the bathroom.” He cut in, heart pounding out of his chest. “What do you want?” 

A step back, enough air between them now for him to breathe, and seethe, arms shaking in the dark, hands closed into fists. A crease in Jake’s brow, disappointment at his failed little attempt to reconnect without asking permission first, when he damn well pleased, a two-way street with a roadblock halfway through, it seemed. In town for two months of radio silence after three _years_ of radio silence; what made Jake believe that now would’ve been a better time for this? His knuckles itched to dig deep into Jake’s face and pull out teeth. 

“I thought maybe we could catch up, you know, like old chaps do. I didn’t mean to push the wrong buttons here, Dirk; not at all.” _Notatoll,_ lips curling as he spoke, rounding words that didn’t need rounding. Black brows pinched upward in hurt and betrayal, green eyes clouded with momentary grief that cut through him like a knife, far into his heart, punching him breathless. “We used to be best friends.” Small, soft, a grip on the handle to twist the knife before pulling it out, and it hurt, God, it hurt; he could barely fucking breathe. 

 _I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,_ but it wasn’t his fault. 

“Correct verbal conjugation.” He spoke clearly, words well pronounced for effect, the heartless machine that Jake had broken up with before, that he had so vehemently denied to have been then. The villain, making both of their lives miserable some more, for free, no payment; a tireless endeavor, a great effort, and Jake looked absolutely woeful. His heart bled.

“I see.” Eyes down, a small nod, and he wanted to fucking kill himself. “Sorry for inconveniencing your evening, Dirk; I wish you all the best, always.” 

Jake turned to leave, but, before the guy could even take a step away, his hand was already fastened on Jake’s forearm, fingertips digging hard into his skin, heart punching him in the throat. A glance down at his hand, and green eyes found his face again, a glint of hope where they shone. He was fucking crazy, split in two with conflicting thoughts and ardent emotions right now, all simultaneously good and bad, each telling him to go in a different direction, and, for the first goddamn time in his life, he didn’t know what the fuck to do, only that letting Jake slip away tonight was a concept that he wasn’t exactly ready for, not yet, not just yet. Objectively, it _was_ the best thing to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to swallow the same dagger twice. It hurt three and a half years ago, and it already ached now, so, no; he had other inquiries to take care of first, other matters to attend to, questions of the body and mind that needed answering, or they’d take over his life soon enough. 

One, at what level exactly did Jake mean to reconnect? At a surface level, where they passed by one another in the hallways and waved each other hello? Perhaps a notch deeper than that, where they dusted off their friendship and met up over the weekend to discuss movies and music? Or the one connection that actually mattered, where they dropped their masks, reignited the fire, and vomited everything from their chests right before Jake pushed him against the wall and flipped him over? Two, would an emotional reconnection even have been genuine, was it even on the table, or did Jake just seek him out purely for sex? More than anything, it was a possibility, that Jake didn’t spare him a single shit. He was easy, and Jake knew it; would’ve never said no to anything that left Jake’s round lips. Regardless, he didn’t know what actually passed through Jake’s mind right now, and perhaps indulging his alleged desire for small talk might get him a peek behind the veil. 

Branding Jake with his fingers, he pulled him away from the bathroom, and deeper into the hallway, where a black metal door hid itself in the dark. He had discovered it a while ago, by complete accident, after his first and only venture into the dark room, when he thought to have been ready to finally, finally move on from his first and only. A tragically laughable event that he had repressed as soon as it had failed to happen, culminating on his person too unprepared for sex with a stranger, and bolting out of the dark room as if it had scorched him. On the way out, from dark to darkness, he had run face-first into this invisible door as if in a low-budget gag reel and split his nose a new one. He opened it now, and pulled Jake in with him, welcomed to the janitor’s closet that had brought him so much calm and solace before. With the door closed, they could barely hear the music outside. 

Under the yellow light that filtered in through the small, wide window just below the ceiling, Jake watched him expectantly, dying for an explanation, a word, or maybe something else entirely. His heart raced, his hold on Jake’s arm tightened, and he literally couldn’t do that last one, no, not right now, not yet, not immediately after seeing him again. Realistically speaking, though, would Jake have even liked that? Four years ago, a definite yes, but, in the present, he had no idea if Jake was even single. He swallowed thick. 

“Being a dick is my default reaction, you know that.” He protested, a self-defense mechanism that Jake, out of all people, knew better than anyone. His palm on Jake’s skin burned, and he squeezed his arm a little more, heart leaping to strangle. “I don’t know what you want from me right now.” 

“I just want to know how you’ve been doing, Dirk; I don’t really expect anything from you.” Small, possibly sincere, nice in the quiet of the room, the two of them entirely alone. Whatever they did in here, no one would know, and wasn’t that exactly how Jake operated? A hand over his own, a warm palm on the back of it, and he immediately let go of Jake’s arm, where he must’ve left a bruise. The thought was an incredibly satisfying one. Jake took his hand when he tried to pull away and held it, fingers on his palm, a thumb over his knuckles. His heart skipped; he knew what this was, and he had been right about it. 

“I’d love to be friends again, if you’ll let me.” A whisper, the kind that they used to adopt when speaking with each other in the silence of Jake’s room, sharing confessions on Jake’s bed, after Jake had done absolutely everything to him and that night’s movie was just about wrapping up. Did Jake think about that, too, and was this intentional? This friendship that he mentioned, was it the kind that they used to share before that afternoon in Jake’s pool, or after?, sneaking into each other’s classrooms in between periods, hiding in the bathroom, Jake’s house their only haven of privacy. The lingering glances, the poorly-veiled attempts at catching Jake alone, the prospects of everything that could’ve been but wasn’t, was that the friendship that he wanted? Before everything, when they had just met, and Dirk had no idea what the dread in the pit of his stomach was, or why this guy made him feel as if in a summer of a hundred degrees every time green eyes so much as glanced in his direction. How far back did Jake want to go? 

“I’d like to read the Terms and Conditions before signing on this friendship.” He replied, voice smooth, no bite. It cracked a grin on Jake’s face. 

“How about we start with this?” A squeeze of his hand, a pointed glance, green eyes that burned down at him, and he knew exactly where this would go, a complete déjà vu laid out in his mind. So, after the pool, then, with the covers pushed over the side of the bed and the weight of Jake’s body sinking him into the mattress, Indiana Jones in the background, Jake’s breath on the side of his face. Well, was he willing to do it all again? He didn’t ask himself that, not actually; the alcohol in his stomach rearranged those letters into, did he want it? If yes, and it was a decisive yes, then how badly? 

One step forward, and he met Jake’s face with his own, soft lips on round teeth that promptly moved out of the way, kissing him back, shivers down his spine and butterflies loose in his stomach. With eyes closed, a palm found Jake’s chest to feel the quickness of his pulse there, pounding against his ribs, the warmth of Jake’s lips singeing his own, pressed hard on his face, enough to push his head back. A quick hand behind his neck, and Jake brought him closer, held him in it, tilting his head aside to steer this however he wanted it, just how it used to be, just how he knew it. An arm across his lower back, pulling him close, feet interlaced and their bodies pressed together, Jake’s crotch warm on his thigh, harder than he had expected, and, God, he was on fire; tongue on his lip, teeth on his flesh, breath coming in short, hands grabbing onto Jake’s shirt for balance, head swimming with every movement. As a side note, he was only moderately drunk, and could grind against Jake’s hip just the same, his own thigh rubbing Jake the right way. Out of practice, but still just fine. A groan swallowed down his throat along with Jake’s tongue, and he could barely keep within these clothes. 

It was the same, and it was different; in many ways, it reminded him of their first time, Jake always that much more experienced than him, handling him as he judged fit, nice as the standard, rough when he wanted it. Tonight, he faced the wall, failing to mention just how often he didn’t do this, his last time being an experience that Jake had avidly participated in, and absolutely nothing since then. Not for lack of trying, but lack of actually trying. With both forearms on the wall, hands curled into fists, and Jake’s fingers in the flesh of his hips, he realized that saying anything would ultimately have been unnecessary, because Jake already knew it; with how careful he was being, and how slow he was going, he already fucking knew. One arm up to hide his face in, and he decided to repress that knowledge, pushing back on every thrust just to prove Jake wrong, to twist the facts and manipulate reality, and Jake groaning into his hair was the reward. Tradition, at this point, to communicate without words, and Jake dropped his careful act damn near immediately, thrusting into him as hard as he used to, making him bite his lip and shut his eyes, a whimper in his throat, sweat on his hairline; his legs trembled. 

A hand ran up his stomach, warm palm on scorching skin, feeling him up, leaving goosebumps in its wake, up to his chest where Jake grabbed muscle and sunk nails in, just short of his goal, Dirk’s neck. Or had he fucked so many chicks in these last three years that searching for tits had become second nature? Was he disappointed? A hand grabbed Jake’s own, ripped it from his flesh, and brought it down to his cock instead; surprised? An instinct had Jake jerking him off regardless, his head thrown back in response to it, copper on his tongue and a sound escaping his lips. Him, always so stoic and quiet, despite what Jake did to him; it drove Jake crazy when anything left his throat, a reward for outstanding behavior, and he knew it, used that against him more often than not, this time an exception that reached Jake anyway, the hand on his hip digging nails into his flesh. Lips on his neck, tongue on his pulse, Jake’s breathing hot on his skin, and he hissed, teeth bared, groaning with every other thrust; this drunk, he really didn’t care. It had been too long. The world spun overhead, Jake’s hand squeezed the head of his cock, and he let the flames consume him. Shuddering, he jerked forward, hitting his forehead on the wall as his stomach tensed and cum coated Jake’s fingers, both hands closed into fists, his head pounding. He whimpered through the waves, Jake’s hips hitting his own fast, harder and deeper, fucking him through it, absolutely Heavenly, almost ripping a moan out of him. Almost; he swallowed it instead, and Jake, buried to the fucking hilt, halted all movement, biting his shoulder as his own climax hit. He shivered, familiar to all of it, the hand on his cock squeezing it hard, Jake muffling a moan on his skin. In reality, he barely fucking felt it, though he knew, by pure logic and reason, that the teeth on his shoulder had marked it good. 

The monumental idiocy of what he had just done only hit him when Jake turned him around for a kiss, the deep and passionate type that only ever meant anything in the afterglow, the extent of his fondness for Jake endless, and bottomless, and slicing his throat in one try. He loved him, God; he loved him with his entire fucking being, and, with his back pushed against the wall, and Jake’s chest warm on his own, he felt white-hot dread come up his throat and make his hands shake. Jake was sweet, kissing him like he used to, as if they were still together, as if they still meant anything to one another, and it hurt, it killed him inside, it welled up his eyes and closed a knot around his neck. With both palms on Jake’s chest, he broke the kiss, pushing Jake back, breaching himself enough room to slip away from between Jake and the wall. He stumbled on both feet, legs trembling and weak, too drunk to stand without support right now, but still managed to get himself dressed anyway, as some miracle of science, his pants not too far away, his shirt still on. In his peripheral, and partly hidden in the shadows, Jake pulled his pants up, redoing his fly as Dirk reached for the door. 

“Hey, just a minute.” Jake protested, still working on his belt, but Dirk barely heard him while bolting out of the room. The last thing that he actually heard was a desperate shout of his own name that made him run even faster, heart hammering into his ribs as he dove into the dancing crowd; he needed to go, to get away, to drown himself in a waterfall and start anew, or, better yet, not start again. Shouldering his way through and pissing a lot of people off, he made it to the exit. 

Outside, a nice breeze that hit the sweat on his skin like a bucket of ice water, making him shiver, and set his jaw, and keep on running. His chest tightened, breath came in short, and he was such a fucking idiot, willingly setting himself up like that, pushing the self-destruct button on a bomb that they had only managed to defuse a couple of years ago. Goddammit, Dave was going to be so fucking disappointed in him; his privacy would be gone for so long this time, but wasn’t tonight exactly what Jake had been looking for, seeking him out after two whole months of possible contact, this a particularly lonely night for him, surely? The hand on his own, so soft, holding it how Jake used to, whispering in the quiet, the punctual callbacks to what they used to have; Jake must’ve thought about it, too, then, and more than he had given the guy credit for. In this three-year period, when had he come to mind? At nightfall, in the solitude of Jake’s bedroom, unoccupied otherwise? Or when he was balls-deep into some girl that was far too loud, far too fake? He knew what letting Jake run into him would’ve culminated into, and part of him had wanted it, expected it; the part that enjoyed the sting of a blade and the thrill of danger, the part that Dave had told him to disregard, the part that he should’ve been treating since they left Houston. So far away from Jake, he didn’t think that he would’ve needed to, and had cancelled therapy one week in, not that anybody needed to know about it. He was old enough to make his own decisions and know exactly what he needed; he had been doing just fine so far, and this was only a small setback. Nothing would probably change. 

 _Everything was going to change._ Nothing was going to change. Three blocks down the road, he got into his car and punched the dashboard with both hands, breathing quickly, his heart trying to strangle him with a beat and two veins, leaving him winded and gasping for air, too fucking close to a heartattack. It would’ve been good, actually, to have one right now; it would’ve saved him a lot to deal with later, it would’ve cut later entirely out. With the doors closed and locked, he was free to hit the dashboard and curse to himself as much as he needed to, as much as it took for the rest of his energy to finally, finally deplete and leave him completely drained, hands pulsing, an emptiness in his chest that weighed and hurt, an aching in his head that must’ve been a stupid combination of the alcohol with the accident in the janitor’s closet. He leaned back onto the passenger seat, panting, feeling the blood rush through his hands and make them throb. This was bad, this was a relapse, and he knew that; he didn’t need a fucking therapist to say it, he just needed it out of his system to function properly later, to think straight and approach the situation with the amount of clarity that it asked of him when time came. Probably tomorrow, probably later still, if he could successfully manage to put it off until then. 

One deep inhale, and he should go. He should go. He couldn’t stay here for another second; had to text Dave to let him know it, tell him to get an Uber home. Obviously, Dave was going to question him about it tomorrow, and maybe tomorrow he’d tell him, he wasn’t sure just yet; tomorrow was a future problem. Palming himself down for his phone, he, huh, he couldn’t… Find it. Fuck, fuck, the fucking janitor’s closet, his fucking pants on the ground, fucking shit, fucking goddamn shit fuck, fuck! Fuck! An assault on the dashboard, and he’d just have to fucking put another phone together, because there was no goddamn way in Hell that he’d go back to that fucking closet for his fucking phone. No, he’d rather skin himself alive. A briefer patting of his pants, and he still had his wallet, car key obviously in possession. Not so bad, only one physical loss along with multiple abstract others; could’ve been worse. 

Out the corner of his eye, a shadow growing closer; immediately, he slid down the seat, so only his head poked out within view, analyzing the being that had followed him out. Jake? His heart raced, but it couldn’t have been, not logically; the shadow was far too short, far too round, wild hair, very small frame. Vantas? Adjusting the brightness settings on his glasses, he zoomed in, watching the figure approach a spot of light beneath a pole, and, yeah, it was definitely Vantas, wandering the sidewalks by himself, stumbling on every other step, far too drunk to have been thinking straight, it seemed. Dirk related to that. On a side note, where the fuck was Dave? At parties like this, they seemed to always glue together, Vantas on that thirsty hunt. Good for him. He reached for the door to leave the car and call Vantas over, but, as his hand closed on the handle, he saw the rest of the group emerge from the shadows, too preoccupied with inspecting every single vehicle parked by the curb to check right ahead, under a huge ass tree, the one reference that they had chosen to remember where the car was. Staying inside, he decided to watch them instead, how much further ahead of the others Vantas was, meandering far closer to the grass by the sidewalk than the street. Survival instincts, harder to get pushed into the road that way? Maybe, maybe not; Vantas did a lot of interesting things that Dirk could only theorize the reason behind them. Close enough to see the car, Vantas began to approach it; Dirk watched the exact moment that their eyes met through his glasses and Vantas noticed that something was wrong. He came over warily, his little cat eyes slitted out of suspicion, two thin strips of black that cut vertically through bright red. He did that a lot. Dirk opened the door and moved over to the driver’s seat to let him in. 

Maybe it was better to have company than to drive off alone right now. 

“We’re looking for you.” Vantas stated, his eyes round in the darkness of the car, almost wide enough to hide the sliver of red that was left of his irises. The neon pattern on his face glowed in broken up patches beneath his bangs. “Why are you out here?” 

“I’m waiting for you guys. It’s time to go.” He lied easily, glancing out the windshield to where his cousins and John slowly grew closer, one car at a time, meandering down the sidewalk like a wolf pack. In his peripherals, Vantas quietly inspected him, though, on this side, there wasn’t much to inspect; the bites and hickeys were concealed by the door on his left side, and it was probably far too dark to see the color of his forehead. At least, he hoped so, keeping his face slightly turned away, just in case. 

If Vantas noticed anything, he didn’t mention it. 

Once in the car, the others bombarded him with much of the same questions that he had already been expecting out of them, easy to dodge and pass as absolutely nothing. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t important; he didn’t want to go back half an hour and tell Jake to go fuck himself, despite how much he regretted what happened, and how much he didn’t. Even if he managed to go back in time, though, nothing would’ve changed, and the outcome would’ve been the same regardless; he wasn’t strong enough for anything different than that, not with Jake, tested and proven through and through. Big surprise. The only up side, at least, was that Jake hadn’t followed him out, and part of him despised that; the part that would’ve fucked Jake a thousand times in that closet, dropped to his knees, sucked him off, and begged him to stay. His jaw set, face turned to the window; he was fucking pathetic. Gripping the steering wheel until his hands hurt, he was glad to have the others here and an image to keep. 

Through the laughter and the hollering that rolled around the back seat, he heard Roxy mention something about a kiss, Vantas finally getting what he deserved tonight. Innocent still, just a kiss, but a huge step for Dave, to be honest; it brought both of his eyebrows up, sincerely surprised. Not that he thought Vantas didn’t have what it took to break Dave out of his self-imposed celibacy, it was just that he didn’t think _anyone_ had what it took, really, at this point, because it seemed that everybody in the world had already tried and failed. Dave was an obtuse ass motherfucker when it came to flirting, sure, but part of it had to come from him, and kind of never did. He had shown interest in a couple of girls in the past, that Dirk could recall; someone from high school with very short hair that he had refused to speak to regardless of the situation, Terezi here on campus who already had a girlfriend, and, well. That was kind of it. Incredibly shy, Dave only managed to talk to the people that he already knew, or that one of them introduced to the rest, kind of like Vantas, and maybe that was why it worked; the initial intimidation of speaking to a crush was gone, because, primarily, Vantas was a friend. Incidentally, his brother might not have been as straight as initially thought. Very interesting; he would have to ask Dave about that later. 

From the kiss, to Vantas bickering with everybody else, to Roxy and John’s fucked up dynamic, and he was just glad to not have been the one getting nitpicked right now, his friendship with Vantas finally fruitful. Not to say that he didn’t like the guy, but every conversation that they had had this last week had managed to have been about Dave somehow, and it was starting to wear him out. Vantas was supposed to have been a welcome distraction from his family every other day, just because they got to be too much sometimes, always poking around his goddamn business, but, as it usually went with everybody new that he met, the pack had swallowed him, defeating the purpose of their friendship in the first place. By now, he knew that that was a ploy to know exactly everyone who he talked to, their tentacle-like reach squeezing the life out of him with their billion eyes. Entirely out of love, he understood that, but a little overbearing regardless. Sometimes, he just wanted to be alone for a while, because who the fuck didn’t? 

Dave got in the car absolutely fuming, of course, after he had broken one of their golden rules, and he couldn’t even face him, staring directly ahead instead, heart beating out of his chest, face burning with shame. An exclamation of Dave’s seething rage, and his throat closed around the truth, because he couldn’t say it in front of everybody else. It _had_ been an emergency, clearly; he would’ve never left the club like that if it wasn’t, without letting Dave know beforehand, but he didn’t say it right now, saving it for later, for the privacy of their bedroom. In vehement silence, he turned the engine on and drove away from the club, Dave’s dissatisfaction with him expressed by a curse that made his pulse run cold, although nothing could’ve been done about that right then. The weight of the atmosphere was practically tangible all the way home. 

When they arrived, the first thing that he did was wash Jake off his skin under incredibly hot water and a handful of firm scrubs that left him raw. It burned in a nice way, the sting it left behind, reddening the pale-white of his chest and thighs, a different sort of callback to high school, in a way. He dried himself with a towel and quickly redressed, not bothering with his hair right now, just about going to bed anyway. It’d need extra attention tomorrow, sure, but that wasn’t an immediate problem; he was trying to catch Dave still awake, and telling him anything while smelling of sex would’ve been the very opposite of beneficial. In pajamas, he left the bathroom to find his own room dark and Dave already in bed, his silhouette under the covers partially visible only due to the yellow light that shone from outside, through the window over his bed. It seemed that he was too late, but a quick scan of Dave’s respiratory functions told him that he wasn’t late enough for REM, which was what truly mattered; in that case, he allowed himself a seat on the edge of Dave’s mattress, and a hand on Dave’s shoulder, shaking him carefully. The last thing that he wanted right now was to make Dave even angrier. Not that anything would’ve happened, only that he would’ve felt like shit about it, which was, well, not too far from how he was already feeling. A deep breath, a stir, and red eyes opened in thin slits to glance up at him. His pulse quickened. 

“I ran into Jake at the club.” He vomited out without giving himself time to think it over, or he would’ve never said it. “We fucked in the janitor’s closet. I was going to call you, but I lost my phone.” 

A tired blink, a hand up to pinch the bridge of Dave’s nose, and a deep, deep exhale. He felt his face heat up in response to it. 

“Shit.” 

“Nothing else happened, though; I’m fine.” He quickly added right after, heart racing, every instinct in his body telling him to keep the confession under control and not mention anything that happened immediately after he left the party as not to turn this into a 2014 rerun. He _was_ fine, however, to a certain extent; after the incident in the car, his head felt a little clearer, even if still too drunk and disoriented to really tackle the whole situation just yet, but he had time. He’d do it tomorrow. Right now, all he intended to do was keep his oath and deliver the news before anybody else could, i.e., Jake. That would’ve been much, much worse.

Hand up, Dave moving it away from his face to stare back at him unobstructed. 

“How are you really?” 

“Fine.” 

“Bro--”

“I actually feel fine, Dave; it’s all good, I’m serious.” He didn’t believe that whole-heartedly, but it’d do for right now, already more than he had intended to discuss. With the message delivered, he got up to cross the room toward his own bed, under the yellow of the pole outside. 

“Did he say anything?” 

“No.” Spoken as he climbed into bed, wrapping himself up in a blanket. “It was just sex.” The friendship part was mostly bullshit, anyway; Jake’s hand at getting into his pants. Truth was, Jake didn’t need a single card for that. 

“Alright.” Soft, understanding; he listened to Dave talk with his face turned to the wall. “Thanks for telling me.” 

Sure, sure, self-protection disguised as a favor, a classic move since the hospital. That didn’t mean he wasn’t fully transparent with Dave, only that sorting out his own feelings took time, and Dave needed a heads up before the long period of silence that was him figuring himself out, and only then being ready to revisit the topic again. They had gone through this multiple times by now, and the first conversation always went like this, a little vague, a little insincere, Dave definitely doubting him but not saying anything, because he knew he wasn’t ready to talk just yet. He didn’t even know the answer to much of what had just happened himself, and prying right now would’ve been fruitless; Dave knew that, he knew all of it, and would be fine with the long stretch of silence now, after this. Dave only freaked out when the silence happened without warning, which, thinking back to 2014, he got that completely. 

“I made out with Karkat.” Whispered into the darkness like a secret, making him promptly turn around to glance at Dave, whose nose was up at the ceiling, red eyes staring intently at the shadows that danced above his bed. 

“How was it?” 

A short silence, Dave surely marinating his reply before saying anything. In that aspect, they were the same. 

“I liked it.” 

A snort that never actually left his face, because this was a sacred moment of kindness and acceptance between the two of them, even though, on the inside, he was both very surprised by Karkat’s apparently ready and honed skill set for this, as well as proud of his drunk fearlessness to confront his inner demons and finally fucking show Dave what he’s been about this whole time. Secretly, he itched to tear down Dave’s bogus heterosexuality and give him the very same spiel that he had gotten at thirteen after coming out to his brother, to say how okay it was for him to be gay, and how he wasn’t going to judge Dave or love him any less because of it, just to truly come full circle here, but decided against it right now, respecting their very serious sharing moment. Maybe tomorrow. 

“So do you like him?” 

A heartbeat, the room in perfect silence. 

“I don’t know.” 

Well, he still had time to figure that out.


	9. Bros on a mission

The morning had him absolutely thrashed, with the world spinning overhead, his noodles pounding against his very sensitive skull, and a tight knot closed around his throat that miraculously kept him from throwing up all over the carpet right now, most likely another biological mistake to his collection. In comparison to every other hangover that he had ever experienced, however, this was already a better start to his day than literally any other so far, which he decided to take as a good sign regardless. Sure, he still felt like absolute dog shit and desperately wanted to scalp himself free of this torture, but it was decidedly better than waking up to vomit that smelled of tequila, a reward for having paced himself last night like a good little troll. Right? Suddenly, he wasn’t sure; a large portion of the night was lost to the black hole in his noodly brains, flashes of neon lights and pretty drinks peppered here and there in his memory, surrounding the only thing that actually mattered, the only thing that he actually remembered crystal clear and perfectly untainted: Dave. The dancefloor, soft lips on his face, rose petals in his lungs. The thought had his heart skipping and the rest of his body leaving the couch for the kitchen; no more of that. Not even a beginning of that. 

Bustling with life and delicious food, the kitchen welcomed him to the sisters discussing some stranger’s life with eventual comments by Egbert while Dave scrambled some eggs at the oven, uncharacteristically silent, without giving his two cents on the topic at all. A little off-putting to watch, to be honest, but nobody seemed to mind it, so Karkat kept that knowledge unspoken, and quietly poured himself a glass of orange juice instead, his eyes quickly scanning the isle next, and what everybody else was having; bacon, toast, pancakes, an assortment of fruit. Okay, he could get behind some fruit right now, maybe an orange juice smoothie. He had no idea where things were in this kitchen, or what he would need for that exactly, but he could make it. Reaching for a banana, he noticed Dave walk over to him, frying pan in a hand, spatula in the other; without a word, Dave helped him to some scrambled eggs and promptly went back to the oven, probably for his own batch this time around. Very sweet of him in an odd way, but not that Karkat would mention it. In return, he filled an empty glass with apple juice and brought it over to Dave, placing it down on the counter by the oven top. That granted him a small smile that he burned on the back of his retinas along with the warmth in his chest, last night coming to him at full force from it, Dave’s hand on his face, fire in his lungs, a tongue down his throat, and no. No! Not right now; Jesus Christ, not right now. 

Turning sharply back around, he came upon three pairs of eyes staring at him, and a sudden silence in the room from that, making his heart skip, and his face warm up. Disconcerting to say the very fucking least here, but he refused to say anything about it, or even really acknowledge it, and simply reclaimed his seat, one stool away from Rose. Across from him, Roxy smirked. 

“You guys are adorable. When’s the wedding?” 

“A month after yours.” 

“Oh, cute; try not to get overshadowed by my immense bride dress. I’ll let you be the second best man.” 

“Right, because Dave’s the first? Funny stuff, Roxy; really top notch material here.” 

“No, Karkat,  _ John _ is. Get with the program, man; he’ll bring the rings.” 

“Who’s the groom?” Egbert asked curiously, making this whole conversation suddenly a lot weirder than it needed to be. 

“Harry Potter.” 

Dave sat down between him and Rose and the conversation turned on its axis completely from that, changing back to that Jake guy that everybody seemed to have been avoiding for some reason. The name jogged part of his memories from last night, the lot of them pushing through the crowd and running out the club, one of them probably having run into the guy at some point. Roxy mentioned their luck to have had Dirk in the car when that happened, and he remembered finding that extremely bizarre; Dirk staring back at him from the passenger seat, two lenses in the darkness. Rose brought up how risky going out was becoming, and Egbert promptly suggested that they stop for a while, or maybe hang out here instead, always disinclined to party, it seemed, but never making any actual effort to be away from these guys. Dave said absolutely nothing the whole time, and it was really starting to unnerve him, the fact that no one seemed to mention it at all. 

Upstairs in Roxy’s room, the usual deal, laying on the carpet while listening to music, Rose with her nose buried in a book, Roxy and Egbert chatting lightly about anything and everything, and Dave, this time not drawing or writing any lyrics, just laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. For all that Karkat knew, he could’ve been snoozing, and the fact that he laid down next to him made him believe that what had happened between them last night wasn’t the problem here. Obviously, something big was up, but Dave was still nice to him, and clearly wanted to be close, so there must’ve been an unrelated occurrence to their kiss. In silence, because Dave didn’t seem to have been in the mood to talk, or in case that he was sleeping, Karkat grabbed some pens and paper and tried his hand at drawing again, this time sober, and entirely in control of his motor skills. Did it have something to do with the party? It must have; he remembered Dave being really pissed at the end there, and a heavy silence in the car because of it. Between the club and the drive home, what had happened? Maybe Dirk would be able to tell him later, after waking up. 

Just before lunch, Dave got a call; an unknown number contacting him, which he brought outside of the room to answer, for some reason. In Karkat’s defense, he wasn’t prying; the screen of Dave’s iPhone was just huge, and he had been laying right there next to him, making it kind of impossible not to see it. He hadn’t been trying to. The unofficial couple shot Dave a passing glance as he left, but didn’t seem to mind that really, while Rose must’ve not even heard the phone call at all, her attention fully focused in her book. The way that they didn’t seem to give a single shit about how weird Dave was being was completely abnormal, and almost freaked him out, thinking that maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe Dave was just fine, and he was seeing strangeness where there wasn’t any; after all, he didn’t really know Dave that well, and, if that was really the case, then asking Dave about it wouldn’t be seen as trespassing into his privacy, right? Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he decided to do that later, and try to sound as inconspicuous as possible as not to freak Dave out. He was just worried. 

When Dave came back, there was a hard crease between his brows, so that call couldn’t have been good news. Wordless, he sat down next to Karkat with his back resting against the foot of Roxy’s bed and both knees drawn up, close to his chest, arms draped across them both. Seclusion? Karkat didn’t want to shove his nose in Dave’s business, but it also kind of killed him to see Dave this troubled, not talking to anyone, not letting anybody help him; it seemed serious, and he was starting to get actually concerned now. Did it have to do with Dirk, and was that why Dave didn’t care to talk to these guys about it? Was he waiting for his brother to get up? With a black pen in hand, he scribbled a question on a corner of the paper that he had been drawing on, in all capitals,  _ are you okay? _ He held it up for Dave and watched the aviators move minutely down at it, then back up at his face, silent for a moment, as if in thought. Then, Dave grabbed a red pen, and, underneath his question, began writing  _ i dont, _ but crossed it out before finishing, changing his mind halfway through.  _ its not about me. _ No, it wasn’t; that was clear enough. With the black, he added,  _ do you want to talk? _ A moment’s hesitation, Dave’s hand hovering over the page for a second. No was probably the answer here, and the one that he had been expecting, too, but if Dave was actually considering it, then maybe he was wrong.  _ meet me downstairs in five. _ His heart jumped, okay. Secrecy was there for a reason. With a nod, he watched Dave get up and leave the room again. 

Exactly five minutes later, counted on his phone, he followed, half-expecting Dave to have been outside the door this whole time, standing in the hallway, but it made more sense that he was nowhere to be seen, downstairs not exactly being up here. One floor down, and no sign of Dave still, leaving him with his first two guesses, either the kitchen or the bedroom, and a third one shooting for the backyard, just in case. Since the kitchen was a lot closer to the stairway than Dave’s room, he decided to pop his head in there first, and found that he wouldn’t have to search anymore, because sitting at the center isle was Dave, with his phone in hand, and a glass of water nearby. Did he have a migraine, too? Did he experience hangovers despite how experienced he was at drinking? Phone down, aviators up, and Karkat decided to approach a bit, taking a handful of careful steps into the kitchen for that, but mostly hanging between the door and the isle, kind of ready in case Dave changed his mind about this. It was a little treasonous, after all. 

“That was Jake on the phone, calling me just now.” Dave damn near whispered, voice so low that Karkat had to come closer to hear it clearly. “He wanted me to give bro a message.” 

“Isn’t that the guy you’ve been avoiding?” 

“Yeah, bro’s ex-boyfriend.” 

At that, he took a seat, eyebrows up and interests peaked. The breakup must’ve left some bad blood behind if all four of them were still avoiding the guy years afterwards. 

“What was the message?” 

“He has bro’s phone.” 

“How? I thought, I thought you were doing everything to stay away from him.” 

“We were, but I guess bro wasn’t. They met up last night, and Jake got his phone, but, here’s the thing, I don’t want to tell him that. I kind of don’t want him to know about it. He told me he  _ lost _ his phone, so he probably doesn’t think that Jake has it.” 

Holy shit. 

“Won’t Jake come find him, anyway, though? I mean, if Dirk doesn’t show up to get it, then Jake will probably try to give it back himself.” 

In silence, Dave pursed his lips, which must’ve been him in thought; rosy, full, right there, Dave's face partially underneath the sunlight, bringing him back a few hours, to when they were so close, so close that he could still remember the feeling of Dave's mouth on his own. With his heart speeding, he tried to keep his eyes up at his own reflection on expensive Ray-Bans instead, doing what he could not to stare, watching his idiot face and his big, round eyes. Incidentally, however, a thought crossed his mind. 

“How does that even happen? I mean, you run into someone, and they take your phone?” 

“No, it’s a whole thing. Listen, I think… I think we’ll have to go get it ourselves.” 

What the fuck did that mean, it was a whole thing? It seemed pretty simple in his mind, that losing a phone at a club and somebody else having it were two completely different events that, frankly, didn’t correlate, but, before he could inquire over it, Dave was already getting up from the isle, phone in hand. Instinctively, he followed suit. 

“Shit, where does he live?” 

“Jake?” 

“Yeah. Dammit, I didn’t ask.” 

“Maybe call him to find out? You have his number now.” 

“I mean, I guess.” 

Glancing down, Dave hesitated. He unlocked his phone, pulled up Jake’s unsaved number, hovered over the call button, but didn’t do it. It was clear, by his conviction, that he wanted to, but something inside of him kept him from going through with it at once, breaking down all of his confidence somehow. What had happened in high school that had marked all of these people so deeply? It seemed that Jake was a lot more dangerous than Karkat had given him credit for, the mere mention of his name enough to freeze Dave on the spot. He felt a shiver crawl up his neck and raise his shoulders with it. 

“I can do it, if you want.” He offered meekly, keeping his voice low. Calling the devil, would he sound like a chain smoker or a businessman? He  _ was _ a business major, apparently; must’ve caught Dirk in his web of lies right when young. 

“No, it’s fine.” An unsure press of the button, and Dave brought the phone up to his ear, aviators staring straight up ahead with his focus, past the top of Karkat’s head and into oblivion. A second passed, two, three, and a handful more in complete silence until Dave dropped the phone again, pressing on the screen once. Voicemail? 

“Try again.” 

“He’s away, I think.” Dismissive as he pocketed his phone back out of sight, very visibly uncomfortable, clear tension on the lines of his shoulders and on how stiffly he held himself, the polar opposite of his usual, detached nonchalance. Right now, he looked very much attached to this whole thing. “Fuck.” Muttered under his breath, almost small enough to go unnoticed even by Karkat’s ears, a hint of desperation in his tone. 

Karkat had never seen Dave so distraught, and it was honestly kind of alarming. 

“Do you think maybe Dirk knows the address?” He tried, fighting off the growing unease that radiated off of Dave right now. 

“I’m not asking him, dude.” 

“I know, but maybe you can get him to tell you, like, inconspicuously, or maybe he has it noted down somewhere.” 

A second of deliberation, Dave running a hand through his hair in thought, and it was so beautiful, the thin strands of golden blonde being pushed back like that, out of his face, up his forehead. It brought him back to last night again, Dave’s hair shining under the black light, bouncing and whipping aside as he danced, sweat on his skin, neon paint dripping down his face. Fuck, fuck, no; focus. 

“His glasses.” Spoken absently, as if the words had slipped right out of Dave’s mouth without him even noticing them. “They have wifi.” 

“They what?” 

Did he hear that right? Seeming to not have been listening to his question, Dave left the kitchen right after that, Karkat in tow. They what now? In silence, the two of them quickly crossed the bottom floor over to Dave’s bedroom, where the door hung slightly ajar and silence reigned, as per. Dirk's anime glasses had  _ wifi? _ Before going in, Dave motioned for him to be quiet, which he would be, anyway, with Dirk sleeping right there. Carefully and quietly, they pushed the door open all the way only to find both beds empty, and the bathroom clearly unoccupied, door frame in view, entirely silent. Sure, it was a little past eleven, but, for Dirk, on a weekend after partying hard, that was still early. How the fuck did Dirk’s glasses have wifi in them, and, more importantly,  _ why? _ There was no mainframe to support it, there wasn’t even an interface for interaction with the user; had Dirk created a wifi hotspot on his glasses just to show the world that he could? That was very much like him, if the case. In fact, Karkat couldn’t think of any other explanation for half of his abominations. 

Hissing out a curse, Dave went over to his brother’s bed by the wall, apparently to glance out the window. From here, they could see Dirk’s shitty parking from last night, the car askew on the driveway; so he hadn’t gone out. On a second thought, he must've been a lot drunker than they had given him credit for, somehow not having anyone notice that absolute shit stain parking when it had happened, either. Leaving the window, Dave went for a closed door by the bathroom, right next to his own bed, which apparently opened to the garage, and made Karkat realize that this room, right here, was never supposed to exist. If anything, it must’ve been an extension of the living room that these guys had cut in half and made a bedroom out of. Pretty lazy job, considering that they had a guest room, which Karkat knew about, because Egbert slept in it every fucking weekend. Not that he minded it, though; Egbert had obviously been their friend for longer, and, also, the couch was just fine. At the lack of vehicles in the garage, Dave cursed again. 

“He took the fucking bike.” 

So Dirk  _ had _ gone out. 

“Why would he not take the car?” 

A long, deep sigh left Dave as he sat down on the only chair around, by a huge desk and a wall full of junk that Karkat could only describe as a mechanic’s station. In fact, the garage itself looked a lot more like a repair shop than a place to keep cars from the rain, with a huge plywood desk from wall to wall filled with metal parts, tools, screws, and half-finished little robots beneath multiple shelves and hooks that carried much of the same, with car plates, hammers and saws to really bring the place together. Obviously, this was Dirk’s actual workbench, and the little desk in the room was just another one of his claims as a man of many possessions. Incidentally, he couldn’t bring himself to picture Dirk riding a bike; the thought was too fucking funny. 

“The bike’s much faster. I hate that he brought it when we moved.” 

Okay, maybe they weren’t talking about a bicycle. A buzzing sound, and Dave pulled his phone out of a pocket, a crease on his brow. 

“He just texted me.” Voice low and desolate, phone screen reflected back on aviator shades. “We’re too late.” 

“What did he say?” 

A pause, Dave tapping onto the notification to full-view the message, Karkat watching him on the lenses. 

“Running some errands, be back later.” Dave read to him, snorting at the end of it, head shaking the smallest bit. 

“Well, if he just texted you from his own phone after telling you that he lost it last night, it’s because he doesn’t know that Jake called you about it.” A pause, his brain working a million miles an hour. “He’s at Jake’s house right now.” 

Slumping back on the chair, Dave looked absolutely defeated, phone loose in his hand and aviators staring up into infinity again. “We’re too late.” 

“Stop saying that. Listen, if we find out Jake’s address, then we can show up there, and end their funny business. We can still keep them apart, I mean, isn't that the whole point?" 

“Yeah.” A long, deep sigh. “I just wish we knew where to look.” 

“Probably a dorm, if Jake’s an exchange student.” 

“Right, sure, one of the hundred dorms in town.” A shake of the head. Then, as a humorous anecdote. “Many Englishmen at your dorm, dude?” 

“No, just…” Suddenly, all 1.1 gallons of bright red blood left his body, his pressure dropped, and he felt like the biggest idiot on planet Earth. How the fuck had he not put two and two together this whole, entire time? He really needed to sort his noodles out at this point, oh my god; that was unacceptable. This far into the game, it was borderline detrimental. “Just one; tall, black hair, green eyes, looks like he loves to sunbathe.” 

Ray-Bans stared at him. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious.” 

At that, Dave turned back to his phone, fiddling with it for a minute. How had he never fucking noticed that? Of course Dirk's type would be a man straight out of a fitness magazine, who must’ve been even taller than him, was probably much older, too, and had an incredibly handsome face to boot a huge, chiseled out stuntman body. Flipping his phone around, Dave showed him a picture, making him come over for a closer look, and, sure enough, yeah, that was his very fucking neighbor across the hall, except much younger, not as buff, and standing next to a very short Dirk who looked like a little twig of a man in comparison, small frame and thin arms. How old was this picture? 

“Yeah, that’s the guy. When was this taken?” 

“About five years ago, when we were still in high school. We met him there.” 

“Were they dating then?” 

“Probably. They didn’t tell anyone for a very long time, so I’m not sure.” Dave spoke while getting up from the chair and going back inside the house, through the door to his bedroom. "I mean, I knew they were fucking around, I just didn't know it was that serious." 

With the car key in hand, Dave left through the front door. They had dated in secret? God, that sucked; his extensive knowledge on romance acquired through hundreds of hours of watching cinematic masterpieces starring white American humans told him that dating in secret never actually worked. Just like in the movies where they pretended to date each other and ended up falling in love for real, when they dated in secret, someone’s tongue always ran and got them both in trouble, so who had done it? Jake, and was that why they hated him? Dirk, and was that why they had broken up? With thoughts clouding his head, Karkat followed Dave out of the house, pulling the front door closed behind himself. How much older was Jake if Dirk was already the youngest around here? Tangentially, before they actually left, they should probably tell the others about it, make up some excuse to go on a car ride together or whatever; anything that didn’t involve Dirk and his incredibly private love life. Who broke up with who? In the car, he pulled out his phone and tapped onto the group chat icon. 

"I'll tell them that we're leaving for a minute." 

"No, text them individually. Bro's in the chat." 

"Right, yeah." 

The drive to campus didn't take ten minutes, despite how much of a cautious driver Dave was, stopping at the lights and respecting the speed limits. With Dirk on the wheel, though, they usually made it in five; the dorm was pretty closeby and Dirk had a relationship with speed that shone through when they had to drive somewhere, no matter how vacant their day was. The only problem here was finding a spot to park, because the building itself only allowed inhabitants in the garage, and each floor only had about three spots each, meaning that almost a third of the place had to park somewhere on the street. Karkat didn't have a car, so this wasn't exactly his problem, but it took Dave a relative second here to park two blocks away, because fuck paid parking, they could walk. Locking the car, they started down the sidewalk, Dave walking hurriedly and Karkat trying his best to keep up, his legs not exactly as long as Dave's. In front of the building, however, Dave suddenly stopped dead on track. 

"What is it?" He asked, catching up a second later.

"That's his bike." 

Taking up a lot more space than necessary, a slick black motorcycle stood between two cars by the entrance, the orange accents on it ringing a bell, and the lack of a visible brand making him believe that this was another one of Dirk's Frankenstein projects. The lazy parking was also very indicative of his character. He didn’t find that particularly surprising, though Dave seemed kind of entranced by it. 

"Dave?" 

Slowly, Dave turned toward him and followed him to the door, his movements lacking the urgency from a second ago, as if he had been hit with a sleeping dart. 

"Are you good?" 

"Yeah, I just, seeing the bike here just made things a lot more real somehow. Like, there was a shadow of doubt until then, you know? We could've been wrong." 

"No, I don't think we could have." 

They took the stairs to the second floor in silence, coming up to Jake's door soon thereafter, and kind of just stood there for a minute, doing nothing. Dave leaned close to it, an ear turned toward the wood, listening, but seemingly afraid to touch it or get too close, maybe just close enough to actually hear anything. The television in the common area down the hall made it a little hard to concentrate, and Karkat couldn’t particularly make out any actual conversation from where he stood; maybe some low voices, maybe not, maybe that was from the television show; he really wasn’t sure, and didn’t have the best set of ears in the universe to make accurate assumptions here. From where he stood, those two could’ve been doing anything in that room and he wouldn’t know what it was; from whispering to each other, to shouting angrily, to killing one another or having passionate sex and he couldn’t tell the difference. Alright, maybe if they were screaming he would’ve heard it, but no discernible sounds made it past the door to let him rule out the other guesses. This was kind of fruitless. In silence, Dave leaned away from the door. 

“Are you going to knock?” He asked, whispering, just in case. 

Taking a step back, Dave shook his head. 

“We’re too late; it doesn’t matter.” 

“I thought you wanted to keep them apart.” 

“I do, I…” A pause, Dave turning to glance at the door behind himself. “Can we go in for a second? Let’s not talk out here.” 

“Uh, sure.” 

In his room with the door closed, Dave took the desk next to it while he sat at the foot of the bed for proximity to him, on the very corner of the mattress, close enough that they could talk normally, practically sitting side-by-side; Dave faced him properly, sitting on the chair, while the best he could do was offer three fourths of his face in return. Despite the fact that Dave had been here before, it was still alien to have him in his room, in his sacred little spot, at the desk where he had spent so many hours studying for tests that didn’t interest him and daydreaming of this exact scenario, except with far less clothes and a lot more noise; sometimes on his bed, sometimes in the shower, sometimes even on the ground, and very often on that exact same desk. He turned his face away from Dave, glancing down at his own lap instead, at where his hands met and held each other, squeezing his own fingers, the anxiety in his bloodstream quickly rising; this wasn’t the time to think about that shit. He really had to stop. Dave had been acting weird all day, and, despite his best efforts and just how fucking deprived he was, that unease was starting to get to him, too; actually get to him now. A lot more was wrong than he had realized, and it showed on just how scared Dave seemed at the idea of facing Jake after so long; hesitating to make one call, refusing to knock on a door, disinclined to even listen through it. What the fuck had this guy done in high school to leave such long-lasting scars? In his peripheral, Dave moved, making him turn to look at him and watch how he swiveled the chair left and right, both feet on the ground, anxious. Karkat wanted him to stop just to not feel the same. 

“We have a few rules, bro and I.” Dave started, voice low, almost confidential. Karkat’s ears perked to listen. “One of the rules is that, if he leaves, he’s supposed to tell me where he’s going, so I can always know where he is. It’s been a thing for a while now, and last night was the first time that he broke one.” 

He frowned. What the fuck kind of rule book was that? Sure, Dirk was younger than Dave, but only by two years, and, either way, he was a grown ass man by now who shouldn’t have to answer to his brother at every turn. If anything, he should only answer to their parents, or maybe the owner of the house that they lived in, and just because he shared a roof with everybody else. This military regime really rubbed him the wrong way here, reminding him of his own damn house, life underneath his parents, and how empty he had felt all of those years, Detroit a dead city to him. The void in his chest had never really been filled, and he wondered if Dirk felt similarly. 

“I know you’re not close to your family, and this isn’t super relatable, but bro’s my responsibility. As far as he remembers, it’s always been just me and him, so when he disappeared last night, I…” A pause, and the chair finally stood still, no longer rocking sideways, Dave’s hands on the edge of the seat. Fuck, were their parents gone, and was that why their house was always empty? He should’ve figured that out earlier. Maybe Dave’s overzealous protection came from a different place than his parents’ greed. 

“I’m fucked up, dude; Jake’s back and I thought bro didn’t know that. This whole time, I thought we were hiding it from him, god; this far into the game, I really should’ve known better. That slip is definitely on me.” 

“What’s wrong with Jake?” The million-dollar question that had been choking him all day long. 

“Nothing; he’s chill and, like, really nice. It’s his impact on bro that’s fucked. To you, and me, and everybody else, he’s just a dude, but to bro, he’s, like, everything, I guess. It’s a whole thing.” A shrug, and Dave glanced over to the door, where all they could hear was the muffled voice of a game show announcer. 

He kept saying that, that it was a whole thing; Dirk and Jake, that was a whole thing. Anything that had ever happened between them was a whole thing. The mere fact of Jake being in town must’ve been a whole thing, too. Who was Jake, really? At this point, he was starting to think that this guy was an eldritch horror rather than a human being. Had he told Dave that, he had a feeling that Dave would’ve agreed with him. 

“Do you think Jake’s a bad influence?” 

“In a way.” 

“Then why are we still here?” 

Aviator shades moved to zero in on his face and reflect a scowling troll back at him, big eyes round. 

“Why aren’t we crossing the hallway and telling Jake to fuck off, Dave?” 

“Because it’s not that simple.” 

“Uh, no, it kind of is. Everything can be simple if you don’t complicate it, dude.” 

“You don’t even know what this is about, Karkat.” Sharp, making the words sting; he almost hissed. 

“No, I don’t, but you didn’t mind tagging me along for the ride, anyway.  _ That _ slip is on you, too.” 

In response, a tilt of the Ray-Bans off to the side, the doors of his wardrobe mirrored on the lenses now, Dave leaning back onto his seat. Defeat, or maybe willful resignation from the cause that effectively ended the argument and handed Karkat the prize, making him feel like shit for the victory, and regretful of his hostility, regardless if Dave had prompted it himself, being a hurtful dickhead first. Obviously, this was a very big deal that affected Dave on a personal level, and the fact that Dave was even letting him in on it was far more than ever expected, than he even deserved. A few weeks ago, he would’ve never even dreamed of something like this ever happening, yet here he was, living the dream and shitting on it; thanking Dave by being a total asshole about it. Great work. 

“Dave--”

“Karkat, I’m sorry for bringing you into this, alright? It’s not your business, I know that, and it’s a lot, too, that you don’t have to deal with, but I want you here. I trust you, dude.” 

With his mouth hanging agape from getting cut off, he stared speechlessly at the aviators that still refused to look at him, glancing in his general direction instead, moving with Dave’s gestures as he talked. Dave wanted him here. Dave  _ trusted _ him? He blinked. 

“Look, you’re always around, we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and you just  _ get _ shit. You’re on my level, dude; professional bullshitter day and night, bro. You’re tight.” 

Oh my god? 

“You don’t have to be in this one with me, obviously, but it’d be cool to have you along for the ride this time. Like, I’d really appreciate it, I just; it’s always just been me in the car, you know?, and a silent cross-country trip can get lonely sometimes. I’m just saying it’d be cool to have you in the passenger seat this time, putting on some tunes for us, sharing cheap motel rooms and getting lost in Arizona with me.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” He murmured, eyes slitting, heart beating out of his damn chest. “Of  _ course _ we’re in this together, dude; that’s not even a question, man.” 

What the fuck? Getting lost in Arizona had never sounded so idyllic before. 

At his answer, the corner of Dave’s lips tugged upwards into his signature half-smile that could also have been perceived as just a very small regular smile, depending on the angle of the viewer. Either way, it warmed up Karkat’s entire chest and put a big, goofy smile on his own face, as well; he saw it, how stupid he looked, on dark Ray-Ban lenses, but physically couldn’t stop himself, because right here, right on the surface, he could finally feel it, was the friendship that Dirk had mentioned before, that he hadn’t believed in back then. This time it felt real, undeniable, and almost even tangible; something that he had only ever hoped of having with someone, anyone on the planet at this point, and the fact that it was Dave only had his blood running faster. Together on the road, wrists handcuffed and doors locked; Dave was here with him. 

“Sick.” Dave commented around the smile, almost absently. “You’re chill.” 

Literally, what a fucking compliment. 

“No shit, Strider; I’ve been chill since ninety-six, sorry if you didn’t notice it earlier.” That couldn’t have been further from the truth, but, right now, for all intents and purposes, he would swear under oath that he had been born detached and cool and not making a big deal out of anything minor or losing his shit at the mere sight of Dave Strider in his goddamn bedroom. That was just where they were now, and he’d have to get used to it, the image of Dave at his desk, his own reflection on dark aviator shades. 

In reply to his stupidity, Dave gave him a smile. A full-fledged, wide and proper smile that was capable of rounding Dave’s cheeks and lighting up his entire face. It was the most genuinely beautiful thing that Karkat had ever seen, and if he stared dumbly at it, and if his heart hammered him in the chest, and if he could feel his eyes widen, it was because of the absurd depths of the grave that he had dug for himself, putting his mortal body and chained soul in far too deep to ever even attempt getting out. He had been expecting this very outcome for a while now, the one day when turning back would no longer be an option, and welcomed it laying down with both arms crossed over his chest, hands on his heart, because Dave was absolutely fucking everything that he had ever dreamed of. It was actually insane and highly unlikely that he’d have found his soulmate at twenty-one, yet here he was, more than willing to die for this human who barely even knew his name. This, right now, was transcendental, and, if he had a single ounce of alcohol in his blood, he would’ve pulled Dave close for a rerun of last night, mouth on mouth and his heart speeding. The thought alone brought color to his face. Would Dave have been cool with it this time? He had smiled like this just last night; did alcohol really matter? To shatter the mask or hide behind it? 

A sudden noise echoed outside, a muffled shout and a door slamming to fully kill the vibe, cut their moment short, and make both of them turn to glance at Karkat’s own door as if stricken paralyzed. Quick footsteps rushed down the hallway, more noise followed, and the same voice shouted again, this time a clear call of Dirk’s name. Jake. That prompted Dave to get up and reach for the door, but not immediately open it, or even touch it. Instead, he stared at the wood for a moment longer, listening to the movements outside, if Jake was going to follow Dirk downstairs or not. A heartbeat, some footsteps, and the sound of Jake’s own bedroom door closing again. Had he left or not? They listened for footfalls along the hall, but none came. In the silence, Dave finally opened the door, walking out himself. Karkat got up to follow. 

Out on the street, Dirk’s bike was gone, though they could faintly hear it speeding off in the distance. With the car keys in hand, Dave turned to look at him. 

“I need you to go back up and ask Jake what happened.” Dave spoke quickly, already moving away from him and toward where they had parked the car up the street. “We need his story.” 

“How am I gonna do that? I don’t even know the guy!” He almost screamed, but managed to keep his voice down, despite how quickly his heart raced, and how much he despised the idea of being away from Dave right now. 

“He’s easy to talk to. I’ll call you later.” 

With that, Dave was gone. 


	10. [STATIC]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potentially triggering content.

A notification sound woke him up to sunlight shining straight onto his glasses and burning every cell of his eyeballs, from the back nerves to his eyelids, head pounding hard with each heartbeat, his entire body aching as if ran over by a bulldozer the night before, which wasn't all that far off from what had actually happened. With an arm up to shield himself from the sun, he turned on his side, scowling, teeth bared from his discomfort. Who the fuck was emailing him at this hour? At ten fucking thirty a.m. on a goddamn Saturday? Opening up the notification, it read Jake English, and his heart immediately stopped, breath ceasing entirely, his whole soul dying for half a second there, and every single syren in his brain going off all at once. Fuck his life, fuck last night, fuck everything that he had ever done to himself, but, more importantly, last night; fuck everything about last night. What a colossal mistake. 

Maximizing the email, it read very troubling news, that Jake happened to have his phone somehow, and would be more than happy to give it back some time, winky face. Oh, god, he was going to be sick. Literally. Getting up from his bed, he bolted to the bathroom, managing to reach the toilet just in time, despite every single muscle in his body screaming in pain, and his brain committing mass organ failure, everything a mere second away from shutting the fuck down. He had gone hard last night, no pun intended, and this was his retribution, he supposed, which, sure, was expected, except without its accompanying onuses, Jake in his inbox, bruises on his neck, and searing pain literally everywhere. He flushed the toilet, and, with great effort, got up from the ground, groaning and scowling the whole way through. God, he wanted to kill himself. Those neon shots had been a mistake, Jake had been a mistake, and announcing his location online had been a mistake, though he had hoped for a hitman, not his worst nightmare. His reflection on the bathroom mirror was a fucking joke, and the only reason why he even hopped into the shower on this, the worst morning of his life, if only to, at the very fucking least, fix his disgusting hair right now. Absolutely dismaying, all of it, all of _this._ He’d have taken the hitman over seeing today through without a second thought. 

Moving any muscle in his body felt as if pulling a ligament, though some hurt more than others; his thighs were on fire the whole shower through, his head pulsed so badly that he could barely keep his eyes open, and his skin burned under the pouring water, his chest especially, where Jake had ripped a fine chunk out of. Well, that was exaggerating it, really, and it had been _his_ fault, if anything, but it hurt as a mild inconvenience on top of another seventeen of the same, so he blamed Jake for all of them. Towel dry and with his hair in impeccable condition, he got changed, and, staring at himself in the mirror, decided to wear a jacket due to the awful mess that was his neck. It’d be gone soon, he knew that, but, right now, it was still there, so a bomber jacket it was, sleeves pulled up to the elbows. With gloves on and keys in his pocket, he left for the garage, where his altered bike rested, only slightly modified to balance out his weight and speed through town like a demon. He mounted it and stopped, feeling his heart race, breath coming in short. This was a bad idea. No, it was actually the worst idea, willingly walking into a trap that would send him right into Jake’s lap, and the most despicable part of it was that he wanted to do it anyway. His pulse jumped at the mere thought of it, seeing Jake again, knocking on his door and being welcomed into his room at eleven on a weekend. What was Jake going to do to him? He immediately decided not to think about that and turned on the engine. 

Coincidentally, Jake lived in Karkat’s building. He had learned that by complete accident last Monday when Dave, still in his kick to get Karkat to hang out with him as much as possible, had asked him for a ride, him being the only person who actually knew Karkat’s address. Really not giving a shit about disclosing part of Karkat’s private life to his brother, he had driven Dave over, gone around the block a couple of times to park, and accidentally seen the devil then, all smiles and laughter, walking out of the building accompanied by another two to three people; he hadn’t been able to tell very accurately, what with throwing himself across the front seat to hide from view and all. Sure, Jake could’ve just been visiting somebody at the building, but he found that to be very unlikely, and, anyway, he’d bring that to light right now, the truth. Parking in between two cars by the entrance door, he hopped off the bike, took off his helmet, and secured it in the custom trunk at the back before leaving for the door. 

The first floor was relatively quiet, with only small groups of twos and threes hanging out here and there, some by the entrance, some on a couch around the corner, and all of which greeted him in some way or another, from silent nods, to actual hellos, to conversation starters like what he was doing here, nice jacket, and if he was going to Belia tonight. No, he wasn’t, but he could think about it. By the way, did they have any exchange students in the building? Possibly from England? Oh, did he mean Jake? His heart skipped, yes, he meant Jake. Second floor, though they weren’t sure on the apartment number, only that it must’ve been either twenty-two or twenty-four, the ones that hadn’t been occupied for a while. Thanking them, he left for the stairs, climbing one flight. Was Jake even home? Surely, he had to be; where would he go on a Saturday morning, realistically? Though, it _was_ Jake, the only guy in town who woke up fully energized early on a weekend to send him a fucking email. Coming up to door twenty-two, he knocked, feeling his pulse race, heart hammering into his chest. 

A second later, Jake stood before him, wearing more clothes than he had honestly expected, and with a devious smirk on his face that made his skin burn and his blood immediately run cold. Already, he regretted this, and, already, he wanted a lot more of it. 

“Took your time. I was starting to think you hadn’t gotten my email at all.” 

Disregarding that, he lifted up a palm. 

“Where is it?” 

His question had Jake’s smirk widening, eyes sharp as he pulled the door open all the way through, stepping aside to make room and allow Dirk a look; not as messy as Jake’s original bedroom used to be, the carpet clear of shoes and clothes, the bed tidy and made, his phone resting on the nightstand beside it. A clear-cut trap, obvious even for fools, and which he diligently walked into, shooting Jake a glance while passing him by, his heart jumping the further he went in. Hyper aware of Jake’s position behind him, where he couldn’t exactly see, and where surprising him would’ve been relatively possible, he picked up his phone from the nightstand, listening to the soft click of the door locking, making his pulse race. Low battery, only a couple of percentages left, but he had to text Dave _something_ that would explain his absence from the house, and soon, too, before they all went crazy and plagued their social media with missing person posts, tagging him everywhere. _Running some errands, be back later._ Utter bullshit, practically not even trying, easy for Dave to disregard completely, but it was something, and that was the deal. With his phone about to die and Jake’s charger right there, he plugged it in for a second, just for right now, and stopped, a shift in the air turning his blood cold and paralyzing him where he stood; Jake had moved, and stood much closer to him now, the Creed that he wore beginning to envelop the both of them, very strong around him, filling up his lungs with each breath. Last night quickly flashed past his eyes, but he blinked it away. 

“You’ve got tattoos now.” Jake commented from his right, a hand up to touch his arm, fingers that shocked him upon contact, making him jerk away out of instinct. “They look nice. How many have you got?” 

“Three.” He answered, still refusing to face Jake, and mostly standing with his back to him, phone in both hands. Either the janitor’s closet must’ve been too dark for Jake to have seen them ten hours ago, or he simply hadn’t cared to look then. 

“I see one on each arm.” _Ahm,_ Jake’s tone nice and friendly as he approached again, in for a second try, this time placing an entire hand on his forearm, firmer, a palm that steadied his arm to study it, the design that he had carved into his own flesh years prior. “Where’s the last one?” Jake’s stomach brushed his elbow as he talked, a thumb caressing his skin, bergamot and vetiver leaves intoxicating his lungs, and he let a hand go of his phone, that arm free for Jake to inspect now. Fingers warm on his skin, the hold on it turned his arm for a better look, and he immediately pulled away, already too late; Jake had definitely seen them. 

“Dirk…” 

No, he had to go; he absolutely refused to sit through the inquisition again, especially not with Jake holding the gun. Quickly unplugging his phone, he backed into Jake’s left side, intending to slip beneath his grasp and dodge for the door that way, but Jake saw right through him, and precisely enough to succeed at catching him with an arm across the stomach just as he turned, forcing him to change plans on the fly, his name on Jake’s lips; a punch to Jake’s elbow that granted Jake’s other arm now on his right side, a turn and an elbow to Jake’s chest that had that arm seized, a hand to shove Jake back, a free torso, but Jake taking that arm, too. It was a fucking wrestling match that almost even looked staged with how well they predicted each other’s movements, his brain already three steps ahead of the fight, and loosely calculating his chances to an unfortunate percentage, because the more he pushed Jake away, the more opportunities he gave Jake to pull him closer. It was dumb, and would ultimately lead to his defeat, unless he cared to actually hurt Jake, stunning the guy as his only successful option for escape. One second of careful consideration, pissing Jake off just to leave the room, and he ultimately decided against it, letting Jake pin him to the wall instead, one arm in Jake’s grip, and the other holding up a gloved palm, indicating surrender. Panting lightly, Jake respected his choice and let go of him, a step back to let him breathe. In truth, he wouldn’t mind dropping to his knees right now. 

“Let’s compromise here.” He started, trying not to let his shortness of breath show. “You don’t ask me about that, and I’ll indulge your weird fantasy to relive the past some more. How about it?” 

A look on Jake’s face, thick eyebrows quirking up and down behind the rim of his glasses.  

“That’s not what I’m doing.” Jake protested, a crease on his forehead. “This is different.” 

“Yeah, sure, what is it, then? Why am I here? We both know it’s not for my phone.” 

“Right. Well, after last night--”

“Forget last night; it’s completely tangential to this. You said it yourself.” 

“No, it’s tangential to what you think it was, but it’s actually the whole reason why you’re here, Dirk. I mean, I know we were quite off our trolleys then, but you’ve got to agree with me when I say that it was damn good, just like it’s always been, and that got to you as much as it got to me, didn’t it?” A near squint, emerald greens sharp on his face, reading right through him, making his heart jump. He remained silent, however, and had Jake continue. “I know you, mate; if last night had really been that tangential, if it had really been all that insignificant to you, then you wouldn’t even have bothered to come today.” 

He breathed in sharply, heart beating out of his chest, but expressed absolutely no reaction on the porcelain of his face. His eyes were big and wide, he felt them, but only beneath the glasses, safely hidden from view. To be very fucking honest here, the amount of precision that Jake had just read him with was absolutely baffling, and shamefully embarrassing. He felt stripped down to his bare ass bones, and, when completely disarmed, jumped straight to the defensive, putting up his signature front of the sarcastic, tough asshole that had literally never worked with Jake, but that was his go-to reaction impulse, anyway. 

“Right, I’m just here for another dick appointment, because that’s so much more interesting right now than staying home in the dark until this headache wears off and I stop feeling like total shit. Jake, the genius child, has me figured out again. So what now? Are we getting out of these clothes yet?” 

An eye roll from Jake, a small shake of the head, and he had successfully touched a nerve right there, lying to get under Jake’s skin, easily enough to call it a hobby. God, he hadn’t done that in so long that the very annoyance on Jake’s face sent enough serotonin down his veins to make him shiver. Obviously, Jake had seen right through his bullshit again, the very reason for his vexation, but he had accounted for that, and would be more than happy to take the one loss for a net gain, the fact that his distraction had worked. He’d rather be seen as an asshole than have all of his shit laid bare in the open, so effortlessly, as if he were paper thin. Jake’s surgical precision was new.  

“Are you being disingenuous on purpose, or are you really going to disregard everything that happened last night under a false pretext to absolutely no outcome, Dirk? Don’t be a sodding baby, now; what happened is worth mentioning.” 

Goddammit, Jake, just fucking let it go; Christ, why was he so stuck on that? Seeing him be so headstrong about something-- anything, actually-- was very out of character for him, and not what Dirk knew at all. The Jake from three years ago was a complete fucking idiot to boot a massive fucking coward who would much rather hide from all types of confrontation than ever face Dirk about a legitimate issue, so this was a little more than just surprising; it was a whole new kind of territory that Dirk had never been in before, and wasn’t exactly sure how to assess firsthand. The way that Jake completely forwent all types of buffoonery right now and intelligently articulated his feelings almost made Dirk miss the idiot action hunk façade that had won him over so many years ago. In truth, he had thought that Jake’s little invitation over here was just another booty call, and was more than happy to provide, but this felt like the very opposite of that, suddenly; an actual, real trap. It reminded him of himself, and seeing that on Jake, his long-term effects on him, made him sick. 

“Jake, I’m not here for that. I literally don’t give a shit about last night, and I don’t give a shit about what you think of it, either.” Well, that wasn’t exactly true. None of that, actually, was true, and he cared very much, in fact; far too much, even, which was why Jake couldn’t know about it, lying through his goddamn teeth again. He was a professional at it by now, the words blending with genuine truth seamlessly as he talked. “The fact of the matter is that _you_ came to me, and _you_ want me here. Now, if you tell me that’s just so we can talk about what happened last night, then I’m literally on my way out, bro; I can’t stress that enough.” 

Two palms up, and a hard look on Jake’s face, not buying a single word that had just left his mouth. Surprising, really, to see Jake antagonize him so confidently, but he didn’t let it shake him; that was surrender, and he had won the battle regardless of how it felt against his ribs. 

“Fine, Dirk, you’re right. I do want you around. God, man, what a concept." 

“What took you so long?” 

The question left him faster than a bullet, making both his own and Jake’s eyebrows raise up above glass rims. Shit. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been fucking around for a month and a half, Jake.” Voice stern, almost even angry as an automatic overcorrection of just how vulnerable he had sounded; a damn near irreversible accident that had his heart pounding against his ribs and heat crawling up his neck, burning off his face. Out of Jake’s field of view, his hands clenched into fists. “So what made you want my company now, huh? Are you tired of pussy or did someone finally break your little heart?” 

Shots in the dark not trying to be accurate, just trying to hurt; to hit something and see it bleed. He had known about Jake’s transfer long before the guy had even left Houston, HU’s database not all that heavily encrypted; stellar grades, an impeccable record throughout the years, and financial support rolled out a red carpet to the best business school in the state, and, dammit, if that wasn’t exactly where Jake had been trying to get from the beginning. The fact that he was finally enrolled here was a lot less surprising than Dirk’s very own existence within the campus, to be honest. 

“Jesus, Dirk.” Complete abhorrence, and maybe even disappointment in how Jake glanced away, a scowl on his forehead. Good; he had aimed correctly, then. 

“What, am I horrifyingly correct?” 

“No! God, I _knew_ this would happen.” An exasperated snort, green eyes still away in his vexation, but only for a second, focusing back onto Dirk’s face right after, making his breath hitch and his heart skip. “I was so afraid of pressing the wrong buttons, and saying the wrong things; stuck on wondering how you’d react, what you’d think of it all, how I was going to even sound to you. Blimey, Dirk; I spent far too long coming up with a way of doing this right that I inevitably mundled it all, as things usually go, as it was bound to happen, I suppose. I didn’t know how to talk to you, when to do it, or what to even say! How could I possibly explain myself to you? Would you even want to see me again? I mean...” Jake faltered, cheeks growing red, an exasperated breath leaving him. “Last time we saw each other, it wasn’t exactly on friendly terms.” 

Eyes frozen wide, heart punching him in the throat, hard, painful, above an abyssal emptiness that swallowed up his entire stomach and picked off his organs one by one, because if Jake was referring to their breakup, then he had absolutely nothing to say about that, or any memories to call upon right now, all of it repressed three times over beneath at least twenty-five layers of everything found on planet Earth, from magma and lava to dirt and human waste. His fingers were cold, and were they not squeezed within his own palms, they would’ve been shaking; he could feel the hairs on his neck stand up and the bones of his spine straighten with a shiver. He steadfastly refused to do this. He could barely fucking see straight. 

“I wanted the opposite of this.” Jake continued, waving a hand to indicate the current situation, the color of his face slowly subsiding. “But I suppose I was too caught up on my own fears to stop them from happening; that my intentions would come across all wrong, that we’d do something stupid, that you’d think I’m only here on the pull, that I’d fail to show that I care about you in the first place.” A shake of the head, and, fuck, what the fuck? What the fuck? His throat closed, wide eyes fixed solely on Jake’s face. He didn’t have a single word in his mouth. 

A noncommittal motion, a hand waving in the space between them, and Jake seemed as if enveloped by an air of defeat. 

“So I screwed up horribly, and, to top it all off, I don’t even know what to expect from you. Last night was one thing, and you were different; we were both drunk, I understand that, but if I’m to disregard what happened, then I don’t know where you stand in regards to this. I’ve got no reference to consult; I don’t know what you think about any of it.” An exhale from Jake’s lungs, a crease on his forehead, shoulders dropping, and he was the perfect picture of despair. It drew Dirk’s own eyebrows together in response. “Do you even want this?” 

His heart sped, and his fists shook, but his face remained impassive. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Us in each other’s lives again, meeting up to spend time together. Do you want it?” 

Blood raced on his ears, pounding against his skull. Did Jake mean that as friends, or as something else?, unspoken and hidden in the shadows, muffled under a blanket, concealed within darkness and nonexistent in the daylight. As a throwback to the past, a respectful homage, or as a perfect, step-by-step recreation of everything that had happened? Goddammit; at this point, did it even matter? His heart burned through flesh and bone, aching and yearning and pleading, and if Jake really did care, and if Jake really was here for emotion… His throat closed, eyebrows drawing together into a hard scowl as the blood in his veins curdled into ice, and the image of Jake hanging from a noose was a righteous one. He couldn’t forgive and forget. 

“I just kind of dropped in on you hoping for the best, but I’m not even sure what that looks like anymore.” 

“I can’t give you a straight answer here, Jake.” He cut in, entirely truthful this time around, careful to measure out his breathing, and intent on watching two greens widen with fear from his response, the color of Jake’s face dropping a handful of shades at his evasion. The prospect of him saying no; the mere possibility of it seemed enough to send Jake into a near panic, and that realization, the knowledge that Jake’s fear of losing him was so visceral brought a wind of relief to his lungs, and made him not want to say it. Regardless, he already wasn’t going to, despite just how inclined he was to stab Jake in the neck at any given moment; realistically, he couldn’t. Instead, his gut-reaction chose elusion again. “I’m just not sure if we should.” 

Muted lips moved, saying nothing, hesitating to speak the thoughts in Jake’s head. He swallowed, dithering, and Dirk watched the Adam’s apple bob in his throat. 

“Would you rather cut all ties?” Voice small, too close to breaking, and it felt like a knife through the stomach, lightning down his bones, liquid nitrogen in his veins. No. No, absolutely not. Absolutely fucking not; not ever again. With his entire arms shaking, he opened his mouth. 

“That’s not an option.” 

It had never been, but Jake had chosen the experience anyway. He felt his nails dig into the leather over his palms; he just couldn’t let that go. 

“Well, what do you suggest, then?” 

A fantastic question that immediately halted every synapsis in his brain. Clearly, the easy answer would be to skip all of this theoretical bullshit and go straight to what mattered, to the reason he came over, his face pushed into Jake’s bed and a heavy body on top of him, sinking him into the mattress, making him sweat, or he could ignore his dick for a second and actually consider this. Alright, as process of elimination, a relationship with Jake right off the bat was absolutely out of the question as literally the worst suggestion possible due to a multitude of factors, mainly that they hadn’t seen each other for too long, Jake had just gotten out of a relationship six months ago, and his gut instinct was not to trust Jake at all. Yes, that last one was still a lingering effect from their unspoken breakup, but he’d be lying to himself if he simply ignored it. Relationships were out, and sex was out, so, he guessed, that left them with friendship, a very touchy, weird, and misunderstood topic between them that he had hoped wouldn’t have been their only option, but that, deep inside, he had kind of always known it. Once again down the friendship road that they had both already taken and knew exactly where would lead them, i.e., Jake’s pool, Jake’s bed, Jake’s shower, etc. The definition of a fool was an individual unable to learn from their past mistakes, therefore continuing to make the worst possible decisions in an undying loop, kind of what was about to happen here, if their IQ was down about a hundred and sixty points, but they were clowns, not jesters. There was no answer to the riddle. 

“Nothing; I don’t suggest anything. We should just do what we think is right and not be fucking idiots about it. You’re a grown ass man, Jake; you know what you want out of this.” 

A curious look on Jake’s face, skeptic; all desperation from before was gone. 

“What are the rules?” 

“No rules, guidelines, or conditions.” 

“That’s the opposite of how you play, Dirk.” 

“When we last saw each other, yes, it was.” 

Suspicion on Jake’s face at that, torn between believing him or not. In Jake’s defense, this was an unforeseen outcome that very few could’ve predicted, and his distrust in Dirk’s words was fully justified. He understood that. Had Jake suggested it instead, the entire deal would’ve been a lot more unsurprising than this. Separately, it occurred to him their role-reversal, despite how, fundamentally, their dynamic had remained the same. Not everything had changed with time. 

A buzzing on his leg, his phone definitely dead. He moved away from Jake and the wall back to the nightstand, where the charger was, and plugged his phone once again, fully aware of the fact that Jake had turned with him, and was following him across the room. 

“I’d like to believe that, regardless of our differences, we are friends first, and mates second.” Spoken just a foot away from him, making him turn to stare at Jake straight ahead. What the fuck did that mean? An eyebrow raised with his cynicism, but he said nothing. “Or does this type of namesake only apply to a game with rules?” 

“If an empty board makes you uncomfortable, then I’ll revoke my suggestion, and we can go back to square one.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I think we can work with both.” 

“That literally makes no sense.” 

“Can you at least listen to my idea before immediately dismissing what I’ve got to say? Look, I appreciate your suggestion, but, personally, I don’t think such a broad statement of circumstances is going to work for us. We’re used to going around a ridiculous amount of rules, always threading the line between this and that for fun. Suddenly disregarding all of that to play a game with no rules would be inconceivable. Logically speaking, we can’t. Well, maybe you can, but I know I can’t.” 

God fucking dammit. 

“Alright, Jake, you want rules? You want a piece of paper telling you where you are, what your goal is, and what you can and can’t do to reach it? Okay, give me a timeframe. You already know the game, we’ve already played it together, so just tell me where you want to start from, and we’ll fucking do it again. Do you want to start from the beginning, the middle, or the end? Before or after fucking in your bed for the first time, huh? Before or after sucking you off in the shower, or maybe jerking you off in the backyard?” 

A snort from Jake, vexation on the lines of his eyebrows. 

“Christ, stop twisting everything I say. We both know the past is in the past, and we’re not going there. I just want to know what’s out of the question for you right here, in the present.” 

“I’ve already answered this.” 

“Okay, fine; if you want to be utterly unhelpful, suit yourself, but just know that I’m trying. I don’t want to relive the past, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes again. At the club, I was hoping for a clean slate; not necessarily to start over, but to do things differently with you.” Voice even, covered in candor, making his throat close. “I suppose I misjudged your intentions then.” 

Fuck. Color rose to his face as if his head had been shoved into a campfire, burning the skin off his cheeks, heart beating on the roof of his mouth; he was a fucking idiot. As an unsurprising fact, last night had been a complete mistake, acted on impulse rather than reason, and, now, it came back to bite him in the ass, kind of how he had already been expecting it to do. Not much of a revelation there, only that he had pushed his own agenda back then instead of listening to what Jake had been trying to tell him that whole time. Maybe, if he hadn’t been so drunk, he would’ve listened to him, and, maybe, if Jake hadn’t been so drunk, either, they wouldn’t have crossed some boundaries. This sane and sober situation right here was proof of that, though he still didn’t blame the alcohol for everything that had happened, and still would rather take full responsibility for the overall outcome of it. As usual, Jake had only been trying to act sweet, while his lack of credence to that had thrown them down the wrong fucking path again. In the end, it was his own fucked up judgement that had always added cracks to their relationship, kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy that always set itself on fire at the end. 

“Jake…” Goddammit, what could he even say here? The circus was in flames and he was the clown that had started it. In silence, bright greens watched him seriously, a hint of disappointment where they dulled down, Jake’s brows set in a hard line. He swallowed thick. “Are you free tonight? Let’s start over.” 

A look on Jake’s face, between surprise and suspicion; Jake openly doubting his character here. Completely understandable and to no fault whatsoever, really. In truth, in Jake’s shoes, after everything that had happened, he would’ve started to doubt everything that he had ever said, as well. 

“What time?” 

With his phone’s reception still intact, he accessed Beli’s Facebook page through his glasses, and quickly found every piece of information that he needed for an invitation. 

“Seven. I’ll text you the event.” 

A small nod from Jake, almost reluctant, taking a step back from him. 

“Does that mean you’re going?” 

“Should I?” 

A heartbeat in silence, green eyes staring at his face, finding his core despite the glasses. 

“You know my answer to that.” 

A smile that never fully formed, a quirk of the lips that never came to life, his heart skipping a beat against his own ribs. Without a word, he circled the nightstand and took a seat on Jake’s bed, both hands on the mattress at each side of his hips, glasses locked squarely onto Jake’s face. It didn’t mean anything, not really, but, depending on how Jake read it, it could’ve meant whatever Jake wanted it to mean. His house was probably Hell right now, with just how worried his family must’ve been, yet he’d stay a second longer, because Jake wanted him to, because doing what Jake wanted was what he lived for, and because the thought of seeing anybody else churned his stomach and curdled his blood into ice. Silently, Jake came over and took the seat next to him, washing him with the freshness of pouring rain and exotic flowers, deep in his lungs, alleviating his headache. A hesitation, green eyes staring down at his hand, the one between them, Jake unsure how to proceed. He made the choice for them both and took Jake’s arm in that hand, fingers firm around his forearm, soft on his skin, a leather glove cutting contact from his palm. The bruise from last night had disappeared. Running his hand along Jake’s forearm, he stopped at the wrist, a thumb swiping at the bottom of Jake’s palm. 

“You don’t hate me, do you?” Asked quietly, as if afraid to disturb the silence. 

Still staring down at their hands, he shook his head in response. Of course not. A long time ago, he had, but, right now, that had been snuffed right out with his idiocy. There was nothing more eye-opening than having one’s own faults deconstructed right in front of them, exposed and thoroughly analyzed by the one party that had caused them. It was true that he hadn’t given Jake a fair chance ever since his return, and, instead, had immediately jumped to skepticism and hatred, the two mindsets that had resulted from their last interaction, and that had plagued his thoughts of Jake ever since. He saw that, and consciously refrained from it as future reference. Yes, what had happened in the past had _fucking sucked,_ but they were both older now, changed by the experiences that had followed it, though he was still wrapping his head around the fact that Jake had matured since then, hinted by his newfound ability of confrontation. A hand on his own, fingers interlaced, and his entire chest grew warmer. 

“I missed you.” A whisper that shook his soul and made his hairs stand on end, because he had dreamed of it every single day since Jake had left, intensely wondering whether Jake even thought of him while apart, even remembered who he was, or felt as remotely as he did about the whole situation; if what they had lived through had marked Jake as much as it had shaped him as a person. He turned his face a degree away, feeling the speed with which his heart punched him in the ribs, throat closing with a knot around it, lungs barely drawing in air; he didn’t think that he would’ve ever heard that, a figment of fairytale, too good to be true, and exactly what he had needed this whole time. A squeeze of Jake’s hand reciprocated by another, and his heart swelled, his face burned; he was about to implode. There was no explanation to what he was feeling, not a single word to describe it. 

“I just wanted you here to talk, Dirk. Last night, I wanted to talk, too, but--” 

“Shut up.” His heart skipped, heat prickling him at the cheeks. “What do you have to say that’s so fucking important?” 

Another squeeze of the hand. 

“I want you back.” 

His eyes shut closed, face turned to the side, away from Jake; the knot in his throat choked him, the blood in his veins stopped running. The air in the room was still, as if punched out of his lungs, refusing to be drawn back in and asphyxiating him on the spot, but silently, in concealment, where Jake couldn’t see it. His hands were cold, and he couldn’t feel them; his heart jabbed him in the throat, and he wanted to vomit it out. Jake didn’t fucking mean that. He swallowed thick, unable to breathe, and took solace in the prospect of passing out right on Jake’s bed, only to wake up on his own later tonight, after a bad dream. His body shook, trembled, and Jake hadn’t meant that; he might not even have meant the first one, either. He didn’t give a shit, not actually, and bringing to life the words that made Dirk ache, that plagued his heart and welled up his eyes was only proof of that; anything to get to him, to break through the wall, to bring him to bed. It wasn’t genuine. It didn’t actually mean anything. He pulled his hand away from Jake’s, the darkness behind his eyelids spinning, his inability to breathe making him lighter, and his chest burned; his heart was swallowed up in flames and the hole around it pierced him right through. He wanted to scream, but choked instead. 

A hand on the collar of his jacket pulled it down to expose skin, and a kiss on his neck made him shiver. He was right about Jake, and that was far more heartbreaking than their entire time apart. A second kiss further up his neck, another one on his jaw, and Jake hadn’t changed a single bit. Everything earlier had been bullshit, everything just now was bullshit, and when Jake aimed to land a kiss on the side of his face, he turned to meet it with his mouth instead, a kiss that landed squarely on the lips and drew a smile out of Jake, pressed to his face. He couldn’t breathe, but it was fine. It didn’t matter. The hand on his collar moved to the back of his neck and held him close as Jake leaned forward, tongue on his lip and teeth to bite it, an asphyxiating pull that had his eyes closed and the world toppling over. The knot in his throat hurt, his fingers tingled, and he was about to pass out. A palm on Jake’s chest made to push him off, but half-heartedly, not going through with it, and, instead, fisting his shirtfront as the two of them went down. His heart sped, his lungs imploded, and he couldn’t fucking breathe. 

“Jake.” Messy and muffled against Jake’s own lips, amid the hunger that was their kiss, and taken as incentive for Jake to pin him down and lay above him. Part of him wanted it; Jake’s hand on his throat, both thighs around Jake’s hips, and not a word in his mouth, not a breath in his lungs; to get fucked and pass out and maybe only wake up about two weeks later, but his chest hurt, he couldn’t speak, and it kind of freaked him out, because he knew what this was, and he didn’t want Jake to see it. Kisses down his neck, a hand under his shirt, and he braced a forearm on Jake’s chest to push him off, halfway successful, and just enough to get Jake up a little, hoisted on an elbow that gave him room to escape. Two hands on Jake’s shoulder pried him off and a ringing in his ears kept him from hearing any protests to his discourtesy. Clumsily, he made it off the bed, and immediately bolted for the door, gasping for air, yet breathing none. Jake might’ve called after him, but that was a distant thought that only reached him in passing as he raced down the hallway and got the fuck out of that building. 

His body moved involuntarily, as if by muscle memory, hopping onto the bike and taking off into traffic, zig-zagging through the cars, riding in between them. Vehicles flew past, buildings flew past, people flew past, but he could hardly see, gasping for his fucking life, the entire world three shades of black. His body was numb, no feeling on his hands or arms, only the wind in his hair and cold air on his face. He forgot to put on the fucking helmet, but it was fine, it was fine; he couldn’t see, but it was fine; he couldn’t breathe, but it was fine; the wind whipped past, his eyes watered, his body wanted to give, but it was fine. The sun was bright, the world was dark, the ringing grew louder, and louder, and he couldn’t focus; a car in his right, traffic on his left, and very loud noise to break through the ringing. Suddenly, his bike disintegrated, as if swiped from beneath him, like a rug. He went airborne for a very long, very peaceful moment that broke the fall and knocked him out. 

A distant beeping, soft and constant, very familiar, and, at the same time, terrifying. His eyes shot open, heart beating out of his chest, the beeping loud and erratic now, and it hurt; the brightness of the lights, the whiteness of the room, it all hurt his very sensitive eyes, naked now, and burning. A hospital, his blood went cold; a déjà vu, but he hadn’t tried anything, he hadn’t done anything; he had been taking care of himself, yet his entire body ached, his eyes squinted, and his head pounded. He was trembling; he felt the familiar coldness of his hands, and glanced down to watch them shake, like a fucking addict, as if naked in the snow. In his peripherals, a familiar shape, sitting on the nightstand, undisturbed. He reached for the glasses, winced through the pain, picked them up and placed them where they rightfully belonged, back onto his face, over his teary eyes. Behind a comfortable shade of darkness, the hospital couldn’t immediately assault him anymore. 

The beeping remained quick as he scanned the room, the other cots in here with him, the two curtains on his left and right, drawn along the sides of his bed. Some patients were sleeping, others were screaming, doctors were talking, yet all he could clearly hear was the constant beeping of the cardiac monitor right next to him. This was a different part of the hospital than last time, with a lot more people here with him and a lot more life; nurses walking around, doctors speaking to patients, people to watch fight and scream. He breathed, and air filled his lungs as if for the first time, all the way in, then all the way out, evening out the beeping, and slowing it down some. Breathing, he glanced himself down; a white blanket covered him halfway, up to his stomach, a white gown rested over his chest, sturdy bandages secured his left arm, and a black splint hugged the other one, wrapped tightly around the middle of his right hand up to the middle of his forearm, standing right out against so much white. What happened? Last time, he had only needed some light treatment. 

“Dirk Strider.” 

A voice that he didn’t recognize, making him glance up to see the man it belonged to; a doctor in a white coat and a button-up shirt underneath it, who stood at the foot of his bed, and held a clipboard in a hand, flipping through it with the other. He felt himself tense from being addressed so directly, his back resting straighter against the bed now. 

“How are you feeling, son?” 

His heart skipped, and the cardiac monitor gave him away, but the doctor didn’t break eye contact with his glasses, seeming to dismiss it. Good. 

“Not particularly well. Which hospital is this?” 

“John Peters.” A pause, the doctor flipping through the pages again. “Do you remember how you got here?” 

His heart jumped, memories flashed past, but he hadn’t answered this question today. Not in a long time, actually. This wasn’t 2014. 

“By ambulance.” A shot in the dark that got the doctor glancing up at him with a look on his face, something that he couldn’t read, and which unnerved him. Wrong answer. 

“Do you know why you’re here?” 

His arm ached, his head pounded, and the last thing that he could remember was the very fast drive home that he never actually completed. Rationally, there was only one answer. 

“I was in an accident.” 

A different look on the man’s face, and he put the clipboard down. 

“Do you know what happened in the accident?” 

“I crashed.” Another logical answer. 

A slow nod from the doctor. 

“Would you like to know the results of that?” 

“A sprained wrist, some road rash and brain trauma?” 

“I see you’ve gone through your file.” 

That was incorrect, but he refrained from antagonizing the doctor too much. This wasn’t a particularly safe environment to fuck around in with his kind of medical history right at the man’s fingertips, last they call Dave over, or, worse yet, his father. In the short silence between them, the man circled the end of his bed to come closer, now standing at his left side. 

“Do you feel dizzy?” 

“No.” 

“Do you feel pain?” 

“Yes.” 

“Where?” 

“Everywhere.” 

A thoughtful nod as the doctor took some notes. 

“We found traces of alcohol in your blood. Were you drinking last night?” 

His body went cold, no answer. The quick beeping from the monitor was answer enough. 

“I’m not a cop, or any member of law enforcement; I’m not going to fine or arrest you for drinking underage, or driving with a percentage of alcohol in your system. I’m a doctor, Dirk, and my only interest is to see you safe.” 

Fuck. 

“You were driving very fast at the moment of the crash. Why was that?” 

No answer to that, either. His hands shook, his heart raced, and he was kind of done with this guy right now. In the back of his mind, he wished that Dave were here. 

“Were you running away from something?” The doctor continued, voice low, aiming for sympathy. “Maybe from someone?” 

Silence. 

“Were you doing it on purpose?” 

His eyebrows scowled. What? 

“Did you want to crash, Dirk?” 

“No, it wasn’t like that.” That hadn’t been another attempt; he was _fine_ now. He hadn’t done any of that in a very long time. He had changed. “It was a real accident.” 

“You crashed into somebody’s fence, Dirk. You hit the fence post and flew over it.” 

His hands trembled; he didn’t remember that. 

“I wasn’t well. I didn’t do it on purpose.” _Don’t put me back on suicide watch, don’t put me back on suicide watch, don’t put me back on suicide watch._

“You discontinued therapy three years ago. You haven’t been taking your prescribed medication.” 

“I don’t need it; I’m alright now.” 

“You just told me that you were unwell during the ride. What were you feeling then?” 

Sweat prickled the back of his neck. 

“Nothing.” Fucking shit. 

“Then why did you crash, if it wasn’t intentional?” 

“It, I…” Fuck, fuck, fuck; his legs moved, his feet brushed against the mattress. “It was just an anxiety thing.” A panic attack would’ve sounded a lot more serious than it really had been. “It was the first time in a long time; it wasn’t a big deal.” 

“Have you been under a lot of stress recently?” 

Yes. “No, listen, I’m not relapsing. I’m doing fine.” 

“Have there been any recent changes in your life?” 

Jake. “Everything is fine.” 

An unconvincing nod from the doctor, and he took more notes on the clipboard. The beeping was loud, quick with each heartbeat, calling him out and making it all worse. He had been doing well, he really had; what happened had simply been an anomaly in the chart of success. Jake was only a small misfortune in an otherwise spotless recovery. 

“I don’t need to be hospitalized.” He insisted, voice stern and serious, making the doctor pause his writing and glance down at him once again, the same curious look back on his face. 

“I’m not hospitalizing you, Dirk. I believe that you’re better. I am, however, obligated to suspend your driver’s license, prescribe you medication, and advise that you resume your therapy sessions in the future.” 

God fucking dammit. 

“It was just an accident.” 

“I’m here to treat you as a person, and not simply as a victim of a motorcycle accident.” Spoken as the doctor moved back to the end of his bed, clipboard down. “I’m discharging you within a few hours. Your brother’s waiting for you outside.” With the clipboard placed at the foot of his bed, the doctor left. 

So Dave had been around the whole time. If the ambulance hadn’t brought him here, then it must’ve been Dave, but how? There was no way to know where he had been this morning; his text hadn’t mentioned Jake’s house, and he knew for a fact that Dave didn’t know how to trace back a signal. Did Vantas do it for him? Oh, shit, did Vantas see him run off the building? No, wait, Vantas had slept over at their place. On the one hand, he could’ve gone home in that meantime and seen him run off, while on the other, well, he could’ve just traced back the text as a favor to Dave. What a favor, huh; did that finally get his alien pussy eaten? Fucking Hell; did that mean that they were _both_ here? He really hoped the fuck not. 

As the doctor had said, late in the afternoon, he was discharged. He got changed into what he had been wearing earlier, except his gloves had been completely destroyed in the accident, and his jacket and pants were now disgustingly worn out, close to ripping holes on the elbows, the back, and the side of his legs. Still, and because they were the only clothes that he had right now, he wore them, and left the medical ward to meet up with Dave in the waiting room; fortunately, only Dave, and nobody else. The sight was a distinct contrast to 2014, and pointedly separated the two events in his mind; the time that everyone was there to make a huge fuss about everything, and the time that only Dave very inconspicuously took him home. The aviators were off when they met, and he could easily read the concern on Dave’s face when two arms enveloped him in a big hug, and a tight squeeze shot a sharp pain down his spine. He winced at it, and hugged Dave loosely back. At least Vantas wasn’t here.

In the car, the aviators were back on, but Dave didn’t immediately drive them home. Instead, they sat in the warmth for a minute, breathing in the same still air in silence. This was when the lecture happened, he was sure of it; it was in the stiffness of Dave’s body, the way that he stared blankly ahead, gripped the steering wheel, yet didn’t drive off. Quietly, he braced himself. 

“You already know everything that I have to say.” Dave started, still staring straight ahead. His assumption was correct. “You broke the rules.” 

Ah, fuck. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re lucky that Jake called me about your stupid fucking phone.” He did? Well, that explained a whole lot, then. “Do you know what could’ve happened if no one was there to pick you up off the fucking street like road kill? Dirk, you were almost fucking run over, dude. What the fuck?” 

Okay, they were down to addressing him by name now; it was bad. It was really bad. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” 

Dave brought up a palm to shut him up. 

“The doctor told me everything. He said you had an episode while riding.” 

“No, it wasn’t an episode, it was just some anxiety buildup.” 

“The fuck it was, Dirk.” Here, Dave finally turned, aviators staring straight at kaminas. “Do you even know what they found in your blood today? Do you know what that _means?_ You could’ve been sent straight to jail from here, dude. A DUI plus underage drinking; you’d be fucked for life, my man.” Shit. “You’re lucky you’re so fucked up, because the doctor said you need treatment, not jail time. He knows everything you haven’t been doing, and so do I.” 

Okay, the situation was worse than bad; it was currently on fire, and Dave was giving him far less than what he rightfully deserved, despite the fact that Dave himself wasn’t perfectly innocent in the very same faults that he had committed, either. The main difference here was that he had gotten caught slipping, while Dave hadn’t. He had been the one to act foolishly and crash after a night of partying, not Dave, which still handed Dave the moral high ground for a well-deserved lecture, regardless if Dave himself drove under the influence or let Dirk drink. It didn’t matter; he had lied about therapy, lied about the meds, and broken the rules. There was absolutely nothing that could acquit him from judgement right now, so he shut his mouth and kept his eyes down, even if Dave couldn’t see them. 

“Who are you lying to, Dirk? Me or you?” Voice softer now, but enveloping sharp words that stung worse than a needle through the spine. He turned his face aside in response, remaining silent, because answering that would’ve been pointless. 

“I know you were getting better, but that was before Jake came back. Don’t you see that?” 

 God… 

“What did he do this time?” 

Instinctively, he shut his eyes and set his jaw. In the back of his mind, he knew that this conversation would’ve eventually led to Jake one way or another, just as it had done in the past, and because Dave and Vantas apparently shared eyes and ears, Dave knew where he had been earlier today, and who he had been talking to. In truth, nothing bad that ever happened to him _wasn’t_ Jake’s fault in some shape or form, so this wasn’t very surprising. 

“We had a shitty conversation about the fact that he’s back, and it wasn’t exactly uplifting. To quell your doubts, yes, he’s still the same douchebag that went to high school with you.” 

“Yeah, no shit. What did he say?” 

“Nothing that I wanted to hear.” Then, as an afterthought. “My phone’s still in his room.” 

“Goddammit, dude.” 

Turning back around with a disapproving head shake, Dave started the engine. Good; having something else to focus on other than each other was relieving, and stopped his leg from bouncing. He hadn’t even noticed that it had started doing that. 

“I’ll get it some other time; I don’t want to see him right now. Not for a while, in fact.” 

“You should tell him that.” 

“No, it’ll be fine.” 

“He can’t read your mind, bro, and if he calls me again because of your stupid ass phone, my knuckles are paying his face a visit.” 

A snort. Good humor was back, and the air between them already seemed lighter. Again, confiding in Dave proved to be beneficial, and overall a good thing. Big surprise. 

“So Karkat told you where Jake lives.” He commented disingenuously, very mindful to plant Vantas right in the middle of the conversation for a change of subject. 

“We figured that out together, actually.” 

“Right. So was that before or after you stuck your tongue down his throat?” 

That comment straightened Dave’s back and stiffened his posture again, with shoulders tense and arms rigid as he drove, a very interesting reaction to what should’ve been bashful gloating. Dirk’s brows lifted out of innocent curiosity, because he didn’t think that he had ever seen Dave so uncomfortable from a talking point, and those could range from Dirk’s sexuality to their family’s sexual encounters, which, to him, were absolutely mortifying to know, yet had never really had much of an impact on Dave. Just last night Dave had admitted to enjoying the kiss, so what was this awkwardness all of a sudden? Had it come with the disappearance of alcohol from his system? 

“That was after.” Dave answered, curt and dry. Okay, so not much of a taboo, just an uncomfortable topic. Got it. 

“Are you together now?” 

A second of silence, Dave thinking it over. That alone was enough proof that Dave at least considered it. 

“No.” 

“Do you want to be?” 

“No, dude; we’re just hanging out.” 

“Hanging out, partying, sucking each other off; I get it.” 

That got him an eye roll in response and the rest of the drive in silence. He deserved it, and silently revelled in his own accomplishments all the way home. 

Much to his surprise, his bike awaited him in the garage. He had honestly expected it to have been lost, or simply left behind, but the fact that Dave cared to have brought it home was heart-warming. It meant that he wouldn’t have to start from scratch, and, instead, could simply repair the damage done, which was, theoretically, much simpler. The metal on the front and on one of the sides was all dented and bent, and some of the framework had to be replaced, but the engine was pretty much intact, which was what he had been hoping for. He supposed that this would be his project for the next few days. 

About half an hour into it, Dave showed up. He leaned onto the doorway rather than walked into the garage, and watched Dirk for a minute. The presence in the corner of his eye had him turning from the bike to glance up at his brother and stare back at him, two playing the same game. 

“I’m resetting the rules.” Dave finally said, and, to be completely honest here, Dirk wasn’t all that surprised by it. It sucked, yeah, oh, yeah, but it was fair. He had brought that onto himself, after all, and was kind of already expecting it. 

“I’m also telling the others.” 

“Wait, hold on. What?” What the fuck? “Why?” 

“They deserve to know, and, if I’m going to be on watch, then I’ll need some help, don’t you think?” 

“You’re resetting _all_ of the rules?” 

“That’s what I just said.” 

“Dave--” 

“It’s what we agreed on, remember? Four years ago, when we put the rules together, we created a fail-safe in case you ever tried anything again, which, thinking back, it’s almost like you knew you’d do it.” 

“We never agreed on you telling the others about it, and, anyway, this is different; it _wasn’t_ intentional. It’s not the same.” 

“I _need_ to tell them, Dirk; how the fuck am I going to do this by myself?” 

His heart hammered him in the chest, eyes wide, palms sweaty and cold; there was one other answer to the riddle. It didn’t have to happen like this. 

“Get Vantas on it.” 

A crease behind aviator rims, an almost-smile on Dave’s face. 

“How is that any different?” 

“It’s very different; he doesn’t actually know me or care about me, and he’s not going to make a big deal out of it, like the others would. It’s different. Get him involved, if you need to, but please don’t tell the others.” He didn’t throw that word around lightly, and it almost choked him coming out, but pleading seemed to be his last resort right now, and it reached Dave as intended, having him hesitate by the doorway instead of immediately countering that logic, his pre-prepared rebuttal seemingly gone now. Persuasive, and damn near cheating, but he literally had no other choice; Dave played a tough game. 

“That’s not fair to him.” Dave commented, more serious now, voice lower. “He’s not in this mess.” 

“Are you sure?” 

No answer. Instead, Dave moved away from the doorframe and turned back around. 

“I’ll think about it.”


	11. To Dave, with love

How the fuck was he going to talk to Jake, a literal and complete stranger, about something so specific and so fucking private? They didn’t even know each other, and had only ever talked that one time in the kitchen, far too late into the night, on Jake’s way out. He paced around his room in thought, trying not to let Dave’s cologne cloud his mind too much, roses avidly trying to drown him in memories of last night, Dave’s genuine smile pulling him back like the tide in a storm; god, that kiss had been absolutely everything, and would they ever do it again? Dave’s hand on his face, their bodies pushed together, the drumming of his own heart. Did Dave know just how much that had made his entire existence? Probably not, no, and, anyway, he had a favor to do right now, getting into Jake’s business somehow, to inquire about his very personal life with Dirk, and what they had just talked about in his room. How that was to be achieved, he had no idea. If he simply went up to Jake’s room, knocked on the door, and found his way inside, what would he see? A pristinely made bed or crumpled up sheets? Which of the two would’ve been more telling? He didn’t even know how to talk to people on a regular ass basis; how in the hell would he ever make a stranger open up about their love life? This was bound to fucking fail. 

Dave had said that Jake was easy to talk to, and he could take that in one of two ways; either that Dave was right and he’d have a relatively easy time getting into details with Jake, or that Dave was absolutely wrong and only felt that way because Jake had willingly talked to him in the past, when they were still close friends in high school. Well, if Dave happened to be wrong, what then? Surrender? A noise in the hallway, a door opening right across from his own. Quickly, he walked up to his door and listened, the heavy lock across the hall, footfalls going for the stairs. Was Jake going out? Pulling the door open a little bit, enough to peek one eye through the gap, he caught a glimpse of black hair disappearing down the steps, almost as if jogging down, soon out of sight. Where was Jake going in such a hurry? And more importantly, would he be able to fake running into him there to start a conversation with the guy? With the door locked behind himself, he followed Jake down, just to make sure, just because he knew that Dave would ask him about it later today. 

Outside of the building, across the street, and into the park just before the campus gates, he tailed Jake through a sparse crowd mostly comprised of students that he had seen at the campus before, and some carefully kept flora, to a sort of fitness station within the bowels of the woods, where a few exercise equipments were laid out for public use in a sort of clearing amid the trees and bushes that colored their surroundings green. He had literally never been here before, at this desolate corner of the park, and much less exercised in public, so this was already new; the most that he had done here was cross it everyday on his way to class. From behind a particularly tall bush, he watched Jake go up to a bar, grab it, and instantly begin doing pull ups on it, chin raised high and legs bent at the knees, crossed at the ankles, as if it was fucking easy, as if anybody could simply go up and just do that, no effort. It was such an impressive performance that Karkat’s brows raised up to his hairline as he stared, eyes going for the dude’s arms almost immediately, watching his biceps flex, big and round. Their size was, uh, very interesting; strong enough to pull the guy up over and over, no breaks. That was sort of a magic spell by itself. 

No, dammit, he was here on a mission! Enough watching Dirk’s man show off his muscles in a tank top; he had a friend to make and information to collect, and this was the perfect place for a casual approach, by complete accident, of course, because he obviously hadn’t just followed the guy all the way over here. Jake, holy shit, is that you? What are you doing here, at my park, dude? Don’t tell me you exercise here, too; what a total and complete coincidence! I’ve been totally coming here since freshman year! No way, man, let’s be bros! Etc. et al. Breathing in deeply, he walked out from behind the bush. 

“Jake?” He called, halfway into the fitness station, making the guy turn to glance at him, and, consequently, drop down from the bar. Black eyebrows up in instant recognition, his person having made a big impression the first time around, apparently, to make Jake remember him so clearly, or maybe he was just a lot more online famous than he had previously thought. Either way, a wide, goofy grin rounded Jake’s cheeks at his approach and made him a lot more confident about following this whole thing up with a lie. 

“All right, Karkat? Lovely day, innit?” 

Oh, this was going to be difficult; his name in that accent sounded like nails on a chalkboard, almost as if the only correct way of saying it was around a slight southern accent. He tried out a smile to make himself look a lot nicer than he really, inwardly was, and braced for what was about to come, but only for Dave; he was only doing this for Dave. 

“Uh, yeah. What are you doing here, dude? I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Well, I’ve been coming here to exercise, you know, let out some steam and whatnot. I wasn’t quite aware that you exercised, too, little chap. What a world!” 

He really wasn’t sure what the fuck that meant, if it was a jab at him or what, but he very consciously decided against immediately antagonizing Jake, his gut-reaction to anything that remotely resembled an insult, and, instead, held the smile for as long as he could. For Dave. 

“Oh, yeah, you know, de-stressing and lifting and working out; total bro stuff. Looks like we have that in common, huh?” 

To make that more believable, he approached the equipment next to Jake, a metal pole that came out of the ground with a wheel on top, and touched one of the handles stuck to the wheel, turning it a bit. Jake’s smile lessened as he nodded his understanding to that, seeming to take what Karkat had said into seriousness. 

“It sure seems that way! So, what’s gotten you all worked up this time, then, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

Oh my god, that was the perfect set up for a bonding moment and subsequent friendship initiation; Jake, the social beast! If he shared something personal with the guy, and proceeded to ask him the same question in return, then Jake would feel comfortable enough to open up, too! Was Dave right about this man? Was this going to be even easier than he had anticipated? To showcase sheepishness and vulnerability, he shrugged a little bit, the smile from before finally able to fade from his face something natural and stop making his cheeks ache. On the inside, however, he was pumping his fists up in the air. 

“I just, well.” A pause for dramatic effect, his noodles sorting out exactly what he wanted to put out there to fabricate the most relatable person ever, someone that would have Jake’s immediate trust, and what was better for that than a perfect mirror of Jake’s own person? As two queer men, they had a lot more in common than not, and he’d have to be an idiot to not use that in his favor. “It’s just that I like someone, but it’s far more complicated than that. He’s straight, and we’re pretty close friends, too, which makes me believe that that’s all we're ever going to be, you know? It’s the most cliché thing in the world, yeah, but it’s still not fun when it happens to you.” 

That wasn’t all that far from the truth, as a good lie should be, and totally aced the assignment. His absolutely terrific work even had Jake’s brows rising in response. 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been through something like that.” He continued, feigning shyness, laying out the perfect trap with some whey protein inside. “I just wish I had someone to talk to about this stuff, like, someone who gets it. I don’t know. I just can't talk to him, and that sucks." 

"Why can't you? You're best friends.” One hand to reach into the trap, and his heart raced, watching Jake with wide eyes. “Confessing right away is surely out of the question, I'm aware, but that doesn't mean you can't hint your feelings and watch him pick them up. It’s no easy task, but, if you’re confident, you can pull it off. I mean, I’m in a bit of a situation myself, though with its own little quirks, but essentially similar to yours, in that we’re also friends, yet something else is there as well.” 

Oh, what a spectacular fucking catch! Not just a finger in the trap, but a whole ass human male! Without missing his cue, he stepped in. 

“Really? How are you going about it?” 

“Well, I, ahem. Before I get into all of that, I’ll admit that I’m not the best at this sort of thing, and my methods are far from flawless, even though they’ve worked pretty well in the past, and I haven’t had much trouble with my partners before, except for, well.” A pause, Jake seeming to realize something. “Why, nevermind all that; I suppose I’m quite alright at it, in fact.” 

“What makes you doubt yourself?” 

Here, Jake hesitated, shooting him a look. Bull’s fucking eye, bitch. 

“You know Dirk.” Jake started, the color of his face practically changing at the name. To urge him on, Karkat swiftly nodded his agreement to that. “You know each other. I’ve noticed you hang out rather often, you like to party together; you’re friends, aren’t you?” 

“Sure. I mean, we have ECE together, and, yeah, we hang out occasionally.” A noncommittal shrug. “I guess we’re friends.” 

“Has he told you about me?” 

“Kind of? I just know that you used to be good friends in high school, but then you graduated and went off to college.” 

“Yes, and at that time we were also kind of seeing each other on the side a little bit.” 

“A little bit?” 

“Ahem, quite a bit more than that, I suppose; he’d come over after school, and we’d hang out at my place over the weekend. My grandparents’ place, actually, back in Houston. Anyway, my point is, he’s different from the others. I tend to focus a bit too much on him without my even noticing it, and often lose track of the bigger picture, but what I’m trying to say is, I believe I’m rather qualified to give you some decent advice here, on your issues, despite all of that. You said your friend isn’t interested in you, but how are you so sure? What have you tried so far?” 

No, wrong turn; this wasn’t about him at all. 

“Well, first of all, like I said, he’s straight, so I haven’t tried much of anything at all.” A very brief image of the club last night and his hand on the back of Dave’s neck and his mouth on Dave’s own and roses in his lungs and butterflies in his stomach and the world spinning and his body in flames came to mind, but he quickly brushed it off and kept on lying. “I’m just scared of doing something fucked up that will make him stop talking to me. I don’t have the kind of experience that you do with other men, and the line of what’s safe and what isn’t is very blurry to me, so, most times, I just don’t even try.” 

“No, um, let me just; there’s been no experience with other men, just so you know. I’ve only ever been with Dirk in that regard, and, ah, women, but acting on your impulses is a matter of confidence, Karkat, not experience.” Huh, very quick to correct him on that assumption, color rising beneath the tan of Jake’s skin damn near instantly, almost as if the mere idea of being associated with homosexuality was simply inconcievable. Interesting, and kind of disgusting at the same time. “Do you talk about love at all, you and your friend? Perhaps when you’re quite alone?” 

“No, not really; he’s very quiet.” Another big, fat lie to the pile. “I thought Dirk was the same way, too; how did you get him to talk about love, of all things?” 

“It wasn’t all that difficult, really. It started off rather innocently, you know, and, as time passed, things just sort of escalated. It was actually quite natural.” 

“But it doesn’t feel natural to me. How did you do it?” 

“Um, I’m not so sure. From the beginning, I knew that he liked me, so maybe that was the real game changer there.” Whoa, what? Holy shit. Did Dirk know about that? “I was never really scared to ask him anything, because I kind of already knew what he was going to answer me. I suppose there was never really a risk.” 

That knowledge instantly rubbed him the wrong way, just everything about it; the fact that Jake had been significantly older than Dirk when they met, practically finished with high school by the time Dirk enrolled, and had that massive of an upper hand in their involvement, most likely having been the one to have initiated it in the first place. It had him wondering if their relationship had really been the conjoined workforce of two people, or simply the consequence of Jake’s masterful orchestration to get some, and whether or not Dirk knew about it. In a way, it explained their abrupt breakup, if Jake had been the only one in command of what happened next. 

“Jake, that is the exact fucking opposite of what I’m going through right now. You have no idea what being on the other end of that feels like.” 

A strategic move here, pulling back to make Jake panic and want to secure their connection with a knot even tighter than the last. His mother used to do that constantly, and it had always worked in her favor; the guilt-trip that had her harem of trolls always do everything for her and the government fill up her bank account. To this day, he still remembered the look on her face when he had showed her the acceptance letter; the betrayal in her eyes, the screams and tears, as if his enrollment in college had been a personal attack. An “I hate you and I’m leaving” letter encased within a fuck you for good measure. Flawlessly, his plan worked; Jake’s brows raised, green eyes widened, and two palms lifted up as if in friendly defense to not get pushed away again. 

“No, no, Karkat, listen here; I’m the other side of the coin. I can tell you how your friend sees this whole situation, and how you should make your next move. I could change the game for you here.” 

Suspiciously, he squinted; was that right? Could Jake really do that? No, hold on, this whole thing had been a farce from the beginning, and one of his own at that; a one-troll fabrication of reality to manipulate Jake into giving him the personal information that Dave wanted, not his real, actual romantic situation with Dave. Jake didn’t actually know what Dave thought about him, and couldn’t help him solve a manufactured case, even if not all of it had been made up, and the main core had still remained the same. Right? No, Jake couldn’t help him; he didn’t even know about the kiss. 

“The fact of the matter is, Karkat, that if you’re really the best of friends that you say you are, then he already knows that you’ve got a crush on him. Trust me, that’s too difficult a thing to hide, especially when you spend so much time together. I believe I spotted Dirk’s infatuation within a week of knowing him myself.” 

Alright, that had to be bullshit; there was no way that Jake could’ve known about Dirk’s feelings that early on, and there was no way that Dave knew about his own, either. Not really, because he had never really done anything weird while sober, only hung out with Dave in the chillest, most bro way possible, as two straight-passing dudes who like to make out when drunk. It didn’t mean anything romantic, because their judgement had been obscured by alcohol at the time, so it was fine. That meant that everything was fine, and their friendship was secured. Jake was simply saying that to connect with him, and, for the sole purpose of bonding for information, he consciously decided to be disingenuous in return. 

“So Dirk was lucky that you liked him back is what you’re telling me, because, so far, nothing’s happened to me.” 

“I didn’t say that there was nothing you could do about it. When you’re alone, try to be vulnerable; talk about something that you don’t usually talk about with just anyone. Tell him a secret, form a bond, and create a meaningful relationship, Karkat. If he knows you like him, and you’re very charming, then there’s no way that he won’t at least consider reciprocating your feelings.” 

Despite how sound that logic seemed, he wasn’t going to fall for it. Outwardly, to keep the easily-impressed idiot façade, he nodded, but, on the inside, he doubted every single word that Jake had just said. Had it been Dirk’s charm that had gotten Jake’s attention, or just his availability? Maybe the prospect of idolatry? The mere fact of Jake’s return meant something when one of his instincts had been to track Dirk down for reconnection, be it out of sentiment or pure sexual interest. Either way, there had been a motive, though he really didn’t believe that he fell into the same category given the fact that his involvement with Dave had been limited to a one time occurrence under the influence and nothing more. If it had bothered Dave at all, he had a feeling that he would’ve noticed a shift in the way that Dave treated him, though, if anything, they had only grown closer since then, and that already sparked a difference from Jake’s case.

Out of absolutely nowhere, Jake invited him for a milkshake. Not right now, he said, because they were still letting out some steam, but later, when their pent-up energies had been depleted, and they were ready to relax. Right out of the gate, Karkat wanted to politely decline the invitation and go do literally anything else, but he still hadn’t managed to ask Jake about what had just trespassed in his room a minute ago, and his lack of information on that forced him to accept the invite instead, or he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself when Dave called. Well, if he was going to suffer for some personal information, then Dave better fucking love what he had to tell him later. Already regretting it, he joined Jake by the pull-up bars and braced himself for a horrible next few hours. 

Painfully sweating next to someone who outdid him in every possible way reminded him of high school, and also of the reason why he didn’t go out of his house very much, and also why he didn’t exercise while accompanied, or at all. His regular ass day-to-day life was already miserable enough without him trying to make it worse, but this was just an elaborate ploy to forge a relationship with someone that he kind of despised, not active self-sabotage. Maybe an unconscious self-sabotage that he’d only realize later had been a mistake on his part, but not that that really occurred to him while doing pull-ups on a sweaty bar or push-ups on dirty ass ground. He was too preoccupied with hiding the lengths of his pain to think of much else, especially if it involved anything other than his express yearning to not be here right now. 

A second before passing out from heat and dehydration, Jake announced that today’s aggravations had been successfully burned out of him, and a milkshake was in order. Karkat decided to breathe on the ground for a second longer, allowing the shade and the breeze to cool his skin a little and sweep through his hair for a minute. One more push-up, and he’d have thrown up, he was pretty sure, so this was good timing. Getting up on both feet, and having a very difficult time doing it, he joined Jake by the bars, his legs wanting to give, his head swimming, and everything about him weak. Jake steadied him with a hand on his arm, but he quickly brushed it off out of pride. He was fine. This was Hell, but he was fine. 

“I think it’s my turn to ask you what happened to make you so angry. You killed that bar today.” He guessed that that was how gym bros talked, and, since it got a humble chuckle out of Jake, he decided to keep it up. 

“I suppose Dirk got further under my skin than I had thought. We were only going to talk today, but he’s become quite unpredictable all of a sudden.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Ah, it’s complicated.” 

“Well, if you want to talk about it, I’ve got time.” He shrugged, his body language showcasing total nonchalance over whether or not Jake actually shared any information with him, despite how much he just wanted to get this over with and call Dave victorious. If only trusting strangers immediately after meeting them were common practice. 

With milkshakes in hand, they sat down at a small wooden table by the milkshake stand, under the shade of trees and with a nice view of the park, where they could watch both the people that walked past and the nature that surrounded them, swaying lightly with the breeze. The green of the grass and the leaves was bright, but the color of the flowers and the berries still stood out among them, vibrant under the sun. In the shade, they tended to their own milkshakes for a minute, looking out at the park. Surreptitiously, Karkat wondered what Dave was doing right now. 

“Dirk and his family, they’re not your average gents.” Jake began, voice even and calm, green eyes still cast out at the nature around them as he talked. “What goes on with one of them is public knowledge to the rest, and nothing rightfully happens unless they all agree on it. Going out of your way to antagonize them will do you no favors.” 

“Did you do that?” 

“In a way. When Dirk and I broke up, they weren’t very happy about it, because  _ he _ wasn’t very happy about it.” 

“Do they still feel that way?” A cruel trap tossed for the sole purpose of embarrassing Jake, because he already knew the answer to that, or, at least, he thought that he knew it; from the bits and pieces of conversations that he had heard about the guy so far, he believed that a clear image had been painted, though not necessarily a pretty one. They all knew that Jake had been in town, and yet had all collectively decided to avoid him, and vice-versa, which really said a lot about everybody involved. Still, Jake only getting in touch with Dirk while knowing very well just how close Dirk and his family were struck a wrong note. 

As expected, Jake became sheepish to answer. 

“Well, I don’t quite know. I, uh, I haven’t spoken to them just yet.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m not sure. I suppose I feel a bit, ah, unbecoming going up to them after everything that happened. I simply don’t know what to say, especially not to Dave.” A pause, and a strange reaction to having said that name, almost as if a shiver had run down Jake’s spine. Huh. “The thought alone is quite unnerving, in fact.” 

“You spoke to him on the phone.” He commented absently, without a moment’s thought to the fact that that gave him away more than not. Luckily, Jake didn’t seem to have noticed that, though. 

“Yes, and it was quite horrible, but we didn’t talk candidly, or about anything that really mattered. I simply informed him of Dirk’s phone.” 

So Jake was as disinclined to speak to Dave as Dave was to speak to him in return; a two-way street with blockades on both ends and armed forces antsy on their feet, with fingers on triggers, waiting for the first excuse to shoot, it seemed. He wondered why the fuck that was. 

“I thought you and Dave were friends.” He lied, a shot in the dark to get Jake to elaborate further on that story. 

“Yes, we  _ were; _ we used to be very good friends in high school.” And what a shot that had been, wow. “In fact, he was the first friend that I made in America and the first person to want to hang out with me outside of school. He introduced me to John and his cousins in class, and I met Dirk at his house; back then, we were the ceaseless six.” 

Listening to that, he couldn’t help but correlate his own experience with the Strilondes to Jake’s own life story, having been added to the group by one of them, and consequently accepted by the others as well, kind of like falling into quicksand. It seemed that if one of them made a friend, then all of the others were necessarily going to make friends with that person, too. Fated, except forged by human hands. He didn’t understand where that had come from, but remembering the possible fact of the Striders not having parents, their strong emotional attachment to the little family that they still had started to make some sense. If he had been wrong about his assumption, however, none of this was remotely intelligible. 

“I guess you didn’t keep in touch after that.” 

“Not quite. John was the only one that replied to my texts, though sparingly, but we were never that close; not like it used to be with Dirk or Dave.” 

“Egbert feels different from the others.” He commented airily, yet entirely sincere, as the first unfabricated thought that he shared with Jake. “I don’t think he wants to do a lot of the stuff that the others are into, but he tags along anyway, like, when we go out to party most times, or when we hang out at Dave’s place. He never says no, but I just get the impression that he’s not really enjoying it.” 

“Yeah, he’s always been different. He doesn’t have the sort of hivemind that the others do, but he goes along with mostly everything, because, well, it’s difficult to say no to an entire infantry, especially if one of them is your best friend, I suppose.” 

“Is that true? I heard it once, that Egbert and Dave are best friends, but it was kind of like a rumor, and now that we actually talk, I don’t know if I believe it. It seems that Egbert’s around Roxy a lot more than he’s ever around Dave.” A pause, his noodles sorting themselves out in his head. “I don’t know. I know that human friendships are different than what we think of them, and I know that best friendship means basically nothing to you, but they just have nothing in special. They treat each other exactly the same way that they treat the others.” 

“Well, Dave and John have known each other all of their lives. They grew up together, and, if I’m not mistaken, they were each other’s first friends ever; when you know someone that long, Karkat, they sort of become part of the family, so why treat them any differently from your siblings?” 

Huh. 

“I guess that makes sense. It’s just that Egbert’s always hanging around Roxy, and that kind of threw me off.” 

“Are they together? Because John’s had a crush on her for as long as I’ve known him. Maybe he’s finally made a move, the mad lad.” 

“I really don’t know. They joke around that topic a lot, but don’t actually confirm anything. They party together and hang out all the time, but I don’t remember ever seeing them kiss or anything.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, but then again, I’ve never seen any of them kiss anybody, either, so.” Taking into account the fact that, so far, every single time that he’s gotten drunk, he’s forgotten about half of each party that he’s been to, his recollections were no concrete proof to say that none of them had hooked up with a stranger while he got lost in the crowd and drank enough to black out. All in all, that statement was worth less than dog shit. Still, though, it put a glint of interest in Jake’s eye. 

“What about Dirk?” 

He opened his mouth to answer Jake a big, fat no, when a memory flash of the Styx immediately came to mind; Dirk’s cologne in his lungs, his hand holding Dirk captive, and his mouth on a face that wanted to pull away. His heart sped, his face colored, and he blinked the thought right out of mind, hopefully to be repressed and never spoken of out in the open. As far as he knew, himself, Dirk and Dave were the only ones who knew that that had even happened, and he’d keep it that way for as long as he lived. 

“No, you know what? I think he’s only ever been with you, dude.” And definitely not anybody else in a surprisingly clean bathroom stall while dressed like a character from a Greek tragedy. 

There was a reaction on Jake’s face from that; a bounce of the brows, an almost smile, green eyes glancing off in thought, a glint in them. Jake liked that. 

“Are you back together?” He asked, breaking Jake’s silent thoughts and pulling those greens back to his face.

“No, not quite. Yesterday, I was under the impression that he wanted that, but this morning changed everything. I’m not even sure that we’re still friends at all.” 

“What happened?” 

Finally,  _ finally _ the million dollar question; the one answer that he needed to free himself of this agonizing Hell…!

“It’s rather complex, and I’m not sure I even understand it myself. Yesterday, Dirk was quite happy to see me, but that completely flipped on its head today, and I can’t understand why. I don’t know what I did that upset him so much, only that I must’ve done something, because everything is always my fault somehow.” 

A furrowing of the brow and a hum to showcase sympathy, as if he, too, were just as puzzled about the situation as Jake himself, even if that wasn’t all wrong. Clearly, he didn’t know what had happened a couple of hours ago, and couldn’t help but eagerly wish for Jake to say a lot more than just that, but his point was that the display of sympathy was fake, not the fact that they were both equally in the dark here. He leaned back onto his seat a little, mindful of the lack of back support, and watched the way Jake stirred his milkshake around with the straw, brows knit together and lips pursed in thought. 

“Maybe it was something you said.” He tried, an attempt to get Jake talking. 

“Oh, sure. It must’ve been so, though I don’t see what could’ve been so upsetting. I know we quarrelled, but we always do, and then it settles, and Dirk’s back to taking the piss, except, well. I don’t know; it all got quite serious all of a sudden.” 

“How?” 

Jesus, he was sweating; his heart raced a thousand miles an hour, his hands cramped, his body felt hot all the way up to his neck, and he was damn near panting. This was it. Holy shit, this was it. 

“I suppose I was under the impression that he wanted the same as I did out of this reunion, but I must’ve been quite wrong about it, if he hated the mere idea of getting back together with one another so much.” 

Jack fucking pot. A victory scream rushed up his throat like a bullet, but he promptly swallowed it down with some milkshake and remained completely aloof about it, just super fucking chill in front of this guy right now. He could wait a second to party. 

“I don’t know if that’s what scared him off, because I thought that I had made myself clear since the beginning, but, then again, I’ve been wrong before, and Dirk only understands what he wants to.” 

“Did he, like, run away or something? Because I heard you shouting his name earlier. I was in my room then.” 

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. He just kind of fled at one point, but we’re meeting tonight to, perhaps, sort it all out, though I’ve got a feeling that I know exactly how it’s going to go, and nothing will be truly resolved.” 

“Where are you guys going?” He didn’t know why he was asking that, because he had already gotten what he needed from the guy, and knowing this would be completely fucking useless, but it rolled off the tongue so easily that it had almost sounded genuine. He almost even believed that he wanted to know the answer himself. 

“Some party called Belia. I’m not sure if it’s a place or simply an event, but their Facebook page is rather delightful.”

Right, of course; it was so easy to forget that art students threw parties, too, and loved to show off their awful creations whenever they could, to whoever seemed even remotely interested to hear them talk. Belia was practically an exhibition of lewd content made by horny students where drinking and dancing was not only acceptable, but also encouraged, and he only knew that from posts online. The Strilondes hadn’t seemed very interested in attending the artsy side of the party world so far, except for the Styx, which was hosted by ex-theater nerds who were cool now and made the entire thing far too difficult to ignore. That wasn’t to say that they didn’t know how to party, though, because they did, and the aesthetic had always been on point. The grand fame of it all was probably the reason why the Strilondes even cared to attend. 

“Are you sure he’s still going? I mean, didn’t he kind of take off on you?” 

A crease on Jake’s brow, as if he hadn’t accounted for that possibility. 

“Well, I hope that won’t be the case.” 

With their empty cups in the trash, they walked back to the building together, still talking of trivialities and tidbits that didn’t matter, to both his chagrin and relief, somehow. He didn’t  _ want _ to talk to Jake anymore, he really didn’t, but something deep inside compelled him to keep talking, to keep saying things that he didn’t give a shit about just to maintain the conversation alive, just to secure Jake’s interest in him, as if that was the most important thing right now. Truthfully, he didn’t care; he had never, in the entirety of his life, cared to let a conversation die, and, in fact, thrived in the silence that followed it, but with Jake it was weirdly different, almost as if a switch had been flicked within himself and turned him into a bogus social butterfly all of a sudden, eager to make a friend. Was this what Dave had meant earlier? He got it now, why people couldn’t stop talking to Jake, or about him; it was kind of impossible. 

In the building, they had lunch together, due to much of the same reason why he continued to talk to this guy and couldn’t seem to pull away, or hide back within the darkness of his room and spend the rest of the day in solitude, his favorite hobby. They helped each other make some pasta and ate it on the living room couch to the sounds of gunfire and swelling music, which was sort of a miracle, given that the couch was rarely ever empty, and the rest of their floor never really quiet. The others had probably left to have lunch with  _ their _ friends, while he was stuck here with a dude who spoke funny and seemed to really love action movies. Jake spoke of Indiana Jones and James Bond while he finished his plate and wondered when Dave was going to call him. Should he text? The Last Jedi was one of Jake’s favorite movies, and what was taking Dave so long to contact him? Had he forgotten about it? Jake didn’t care for aliens, but the predators were so visceral, and, at this point, should he just let it all go? Let Dave forget about the favor, go back to his room, take a nap, and when Dave finally cared to text him, pretend that this entire process hadn’t been painfully agonizing from start to finish, or entirely in his interest to make Dave like him. Pretend that he didn’t miss the sincerity of Dave’s real smile, or the warmth of his body as they kissed, or the fact that Dave had been in his room only a handful of hours ago. Sinking into the couch, he astral-projected while Jake told him about Jurassic Park and The Nice Guys. 

It was late in the afternoon when Dave finally called. His phone vibrated, his hopes all rushed right back, and when he caught sight of Dave’s name on the screen, his heart jumped straight out of his chest. Promptly, he got up from the couch, excused himself, and left Jake with the remote. Five quick strides to his room, and he locked the door behind himself before answering. He had literally never locked his door before, yet here he was, doing it on auto-pilot somehow, head in the clouds and heart pumping adrenaline down his veins. He had to breathe in deep to properly pick up. 

“Hey, Dave.” 

“Karkat, hey.” A pause, and Dave sounded weird, tired. “Did you talk to Jake?” 

So he hadn’t forgotten. 

“Yes.” Excited and damn proud of himself, too, but doing his best to suck any emotion out of his voice for now. “A lot, actually; this guy won’t shut the fuck up. He’s easy, and you were right.” 

“Yeah, I know. He’s needy as hell.” 

“I guess.” A heartbeat, and something was wrong, off, in the tone of Dave’s voice, in the flatness of his words. He wasn’t like this. He almost sounded like Dirk right now.  _ Are you okay? _ , he didn’t ask, swallowing it down instead, eyebrows furrowing, heart skipping.  _ What happened? _ “They argued and Dirk ran off.” He almost choked. 

“Figures. Did he say what about?” 

“Um, getting back together, which Jake is all for, but, apparently, Dirk isn’t.” 

A long sigh from Dave’s end, and he pictured red eyes closing, chiseled jaw setting. In his head, Dave was out on the street, maybe in the quiet of his car, skin colored red and orange from the setting sun, bouncing off of Ray-Ban lenses and making the blonde of his hair shine. 

“Goddammit, dude.” Almost a whisper, no energy to it. 

“What did Dirk say?” 

“Fuck all. He only tells me what he wants to, and this was definitely not on the list. He’s vague and distant until shit comes crashing down and I have to clean it up.” A pause, tongue clicking. He thought of Dave's mouth, pink tongue between round teeth, full lips quirked up in disapproval. “It’s not the first time.” 

“How long until he fucks up, then?” 

“It already happened. Earlier today, he crashed on the way back, but he’s fine. He’s just a fucking idiot.” 

That was shocking enough to defog his brain and promptly shoot his eyebrows up to his hairline, eyes wide, pulse racing. Shit. Dirk was alright? Holy fuck. 

“Oh my God, dude. Jake must’ve freaked him out beyond this plane of existence.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did he break anything?” 

“No, just sprained his wrist and scraped his arms. He’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.” 

“Are you okay?” 

It slipped. Goddammit, it slipped, and his face reddened, and his skin was warm, and he was sweating, but Dave wasn't here to see it. In the car, with an elbow on the armrest and his phone to an ear, the setting sun reflected itself on black lenses and kissed his skin and he thought of Karkat, too. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. We just got back from the hospital. I sound like shit because I was in the waiting room for five fucking hours, if that’s why you’re asking.” 

It was. 

“No, it’s just fucked up what happened, and maybe it got to you, too. I was just wondering, because…” An abrupt pause, cutting himself off here, his thoughts scrambling themselves in his head, halfway up his throat. This story was a little too personal. No, not today; maybe some other time, but not today. “I don’t know, I…”  _ I worry about you, _ a swallow, thick. He was going fucking crazy. “I’m looking out for you.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Sure.” Forced, almost strained, making it difficult to hold everything else back. 

“No, for real, Karkat, thank you. Thank you for everything today; you’re a real one, man." 

His heart punched him in the chest a thousand times, face burning. Holy shit. 

"It's chill, dude. I got you." 

"I got you, too." 

Holy fucking shit. What? He could barely breathe. 

"Hope you know that, 'cause I've been kind of a dickhead lately. I promise it's not always all about me." 

"No, I know it's not like that." 

"You just kind of got here in the middle of a lot. It's bad timing." 

"Is it?" 

"For you, yeah. For me it's kind of perfect, though." 

Goddammit, he was smiling so big that it made him feel stupid. Every word that Dave said felt like a fucking kiss on the cheek.

"Are you going tonight?" 

A blink, his heart beat deeply, and he wasn't sure what Dave referred to, changing the topic so suddenly. 

"Where?" 

"We had plans to go out again, but bro's not going, obviously, and I'm not, either. I guess I forgot to invite you, because you were here earlier, and I thought you already knew about it." 

"No, I didn't." 

"Well, the girls can pick you up at seven, if you want. They're going to Belia." 

Wait a minute. 

"Are you sure Dirk's not going?" 

"Oh, yeah. There's no way he's leaving the house tonight. I'm making sure of that myself." 

"But, uh…" Huh. Should he tell him? Well, why the fuck shouldn't he? "Jake told me that Dirk invited him there tonight. He thinks it's still on." 

"That must’ve been before the crash. He just told me that he doesn't want to see Jake for a while, and, anyway, his license is gone." 

"Shit, really?" 

"I mean, that wouldn't actually stop him from going, but I sure as fuck will. He's staying home tonight."

Steadfast and sure, maybe another pull to drain Dave's energy, especially given just how much of himself he was putting into this. It was clear that he cared a lot about his brother, and whether or not Dirk had had any say in forgoing the party tonight probably hadn't mattered in the final decision at all. He couldn't help but think of that comment from Dave earlier, almost in passing, almost absently,  _ it's always been just me and him. _ Had the others not been there from the beginning, too? He knew that they were cousins, but taking into account the different last names, maybe their families hadn't always been so close. 

Dave hung up with a promise to see him tomorrow, and he put his phone to his chest and thought about that, heart fluttering, while the sun slowly disappeared from the sky. 

In the darkness of his bedroom, with the covers over his head and the light of his phone screen shining onto his face, he scrolled down Facebook, mindless, wondering what Dave was doing and if he'd hate getting another call right now. The answer was probably yes, because they had  _ just _ fucking called, so he kept himself busy instead, tracking Belia's page and the posts tagged with it. Dave was spent, emotionally more than not, that had been made clear, and he really didn't want to make it worse. Maybe he wouldn't, and calling Dave would've cheered him up, actually, but he'd  _ probably _ be making it worse, which was a risk that he refused to take, and, anyway, it was fine; they'd see each other tomorrow. It was late, dinner had been scarfed down while Jake was out, and he couldn't sleep, evidently, as per at this point, letting the minutes trickle past in absolute solitude. Dave was most likely asleep by now, and that assumption kept his fingers away from his contacts list, because they had hung up only a handful of hours ago, and having the word  _ needy _ in Dave's mouth tied to his name, he was sure, would've burned. Having heard it in relation to somebody else had already sped up his heart and made his hands sweat. Dave wasn't into it, so he'd give him space. 

Perhaps because he had been thinking so fervently about Dave and his voice and the conversation from earlier that Dave ended up being the one to call him instead. He had either tapped Karkat's phone or listened to his very loud thoughts, which, at this point, really didn't bother him at all, because the call felt like a miracle, and he took it without a second thought. When his phone buzzed and Dave's name dropped down from above, he first had a heart attack, then froze for a full two seconds, then breathed, and finally answered. 

"Dude." 

"I'm sorry for calling so late, but I need to talk to you. I'm sorry. Were you sleeping?" 

His heart raced. 

"No, it's fine. What's happening?" 

A breath, long, either out of relief or to calm himself down. He hoped it was the former, because the mere thought of Dave in a panic was enough to quicken his breathing.

"I feel like shit saying this, but I need your help. It's a whole thing." Of course it was. "The girls don't know about Jake. I told them about the crash, but not Jake. They don't know bro's talked to him." 

"What did you say about the crash, then? That it happened because Dirk was fucking around?" 

"Yeah, that he went for a ride and ran into a fence. It's not that unbelievable, 'cause he drives like a bat outta hell. You know what I mean; everybody knows what I mean. He sped, and he crashed, and he's a fucking dumbass. What's new?" 

"Why can't they know about Jake?" 

"Because it touches on something that's bigger than me. Bigger than both of us, actually. It's not worth it, and bro's right; they don't need to know just yet." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"The effect that Jake has on him, it's fucked up. It makes him do shit that he wouldn't otherwise. You know that he wouldn't have crashed on a fucking fence if it hadn't been for Jake." 

What the fuck?

"I don’t understand." 

"You're not supposed to; I just need you to help me. I didn't want to bring you into this, and I'm sorry for even asking, but I really can't do it alone. It’s just not possible." 

"Do what? What are you saying?" 

"Keep bro from himself. Do you remember the rules that I mentioned earlier? The ones we made?" 

"Yeah." 

"They're for his protection. It's a big deal, but don't panic. It's easy." 

With step one already failed, and his heart beating out of his chest, he didn't feel optimistic about this plan. 

"What do I have to do?" 

"Nothing for right now, just get some rest for tomorrow.” Oh my god, this was driving him insane. “Is Jake around?” 

“Uh, I don’t know. He went to Belia earlier, so he’s probably still out.” 

“Do you think you could break into his room?” 

“Why?” 

What the  _ fuck. _

“Bro forgot his phone again. It’s a fucking comedy skit at this point. Can you get it?” 

“I can check, but I think Jake locks his door.” 

Out of his bed, this felt like a bad idea. Everything about this felt like a bad idea, from beginning to end, and the sensible part of his brain was screaming for him to quit this whole circus, bid Dave goodnight, and stop willingly acting like a clown, but his heart squeezed, and his grip tightened around his phone, and the thought of ever denying Dave sliced his stomach open. He couldn’t do it. Slowly pulling his door open, he felt his heart hammer him in the chest, fear crawling up his spine, and still chose it over ever saying no to Dave, no matter what to. 

“Jake’s probably pissed, if he’s here.” He whispered, one glance at the empty stairway, and one glance at the darkness that partially enveloped their hallway. The crack beneath Jake’s door was leaden, either not around or asleep. 

“Why?” 

“Because Dirk stood him up, dude!” An aggressive whisper to take his attention away from the shaking of his hands and the hesitation of his feet, not moving, still by his own doorway. He was only one lean away from Jake’s doorknob, yet it felt as if on the other side of invisible lasers and dangerous deathtraps. His pulse jumped. 

“You didn’t tell him?” 

“No, I didn’t know I was supposed to!” 

“Oh my God, Karkat.” 

His face burned and he felt like a dumbass, glad that Dave couldn’t see him right now, probably in the darkness of his own room at this hour, warm under red blankets. He reached an arm across the hallway, couldn’t make it, and leaned forward some, only enough to touch the doorknob and twist it, heart punching him in the throat. A push, and it didn’t give; Jake had locked it. 

“No luck, dude; I told you Jake locks his door.” 

“He’s going to kill bro on Monday.” Dave commented airily, almost as if he hadn’t heard him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell him.” 

“It’s not my fault!” He hissed, louder than before, feeling his cheeks burn as he moved back into the comfortable quiet of his room and closed the door behind himself. For whatever reason, he locked it, too. 

“What the fuck am I gonna do, dude?” 

Within the same second, he was again under the safety of his blankets and in the warmth of his bed. This time, he told himself, no matter what Dave asked him to do, he just fucking wouldn’t. 

“Beat Jake to the punch. Get an armada around Dirk.” 

“I don't think he'd care. He'd probably walk through it and get bro anyway." 

"Not if it's you and your cousins; he doesn't have the balls to talk to you guys, or even get too close. He's scared." 

"Scared of what?" 

"Of you! And Roxy, and Rose, and to a much lesser degree, Egbert. Why do you think he's only talked to Dirk so far?" 

"He has nothing to be scared of.  _ We're _ the ones avoiding him." 

"Two are playing that game, dude. He's terrified." 

No immediate reply, a second of silence, of contemplation. He pictured Dave's bedroom shrouded in darkness, a sliver of light coming in through the window, as silver as the moon, filtering in past clouds and tree leaves to color Dave's blanket pale red, his hair practically white. Dirk wasn't there. 

"Do you think…" Thoughtful, conspiratorial. Whatever Dave was thinking of, he already liked it. "Do you think maybe we could scare him off?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Maybe we could trick him, like, get him in a room with all of us, make him face us all together. I'm thinking, if we all tell him what we think about him, how we really feel, then maybe he'll finally get it through his thick head that what we used to have is over. Especially what he used to have with bro. Like, I'm hoping it'll at least discourage him from getting too close to any of us again." 

Huh, cruel and soulless. He kind of loved it. 

"You could throw a party tomorrow night and I could invite him to it, saying it's some college party somewhere, assuming that he doesn't know your address." 

"I don't think he does."

“Then we’re set. What time?” 

“Tell him to come over at seven. I’ll pick you up at six, though.” 

He didn’t know why the time difference was a thing, but it had his heart skipping, anyway. 


	12. A brilliant plan

As previously established, the fact that Dirk had stood Jake up last night had made Jake livid. It was in the scowl on his forehead that morning, while he mixed some pancake batter with eggs and milk, mentally focused yet emotionally dispersed, slamming cabinet doors closed, furiously throwing used utensils in the sink. The kitchen was deserted, because nobody was up on a Sunday morning, and Karkat felt a little conspicuous being the only one here to find Jake like this, but, at the same time, he didn’t think that Jake would notice that. Whether or not he had spent the last few hours in very light sleep half-listening to the sound of Jake’s door didn’t matter; he was here now, and Jake was too upset to wonder why. He walked in with a manufactured smile on his face and a light greeting, as if this had been his best night yet, as if he always slept well. Green eyes glanced at him in passing, and a mumbled good morning left Jake’s lips. Perfect. 

“Are you alright, dude? You’re making pancakes as if your wife had just taken the house in the divorce.” 

“Funny, Karkat. That’s some good material you’ve got right there, mate.” Practically seething as Jake poured batter onto a frying pan. Great!

“Alright, sorry; I take it last night wasn’t what you expected it to be.” 

“He didn’t even show up!” Oh, bingo. “And you know what the kicker is? I  _ still _ have his bloody phone, so all I can do is fucking email him an upsetting letter with Best Regards at the bottom, like a bloody cuck! Jesus fucking Christ, man; he could’ve told me. He could’ve called it off, and I would’ve been fine with that. I think I would’ve even liked it, because maybe then we could’ve rescheduled that to today, and maybe it would’ve gone differently, but it didn’t. Voilá!” An angry push on the pan, and Jake flipped the pancake in a perfect swoop, as if he were a real chef, and not just an extremely upset ex-boyfriend. “God, I wish I could call him right now. I wish I could tell him all of that.” 

“I think I know exactly what you need, dude.” Spoken as he took the liberty to sit at the counter and pull a plate closer, one that already had a pancake on it. “You need a revenge party, and I happen to know the perfect one for tonight.” 

A big, big sigh from Jake, and he didn’t seem to mind Karkat pouring syrup over that one pancake, too preoccupied with the one in the frying pan. 

“What’s it called, mate?” 

“It doesn’t really have a name, because it’s a pretty underground house party, but I’m going, and maybe dancing a little will help you.” 

“Well, I suppose it could. Dirk’s blocked my email address, so I can’t really talk to him until tomorrow.” 

“What’s going on tomorrow?” A stolen fork, and he stabbed himself a piece. 

“Tomorrow is Monday. I’ll see him in class.” 

“You got classes together?” Half-muffled through pancakes and syrup, and, for as much as he didn’t give a shit about human food, this was really good. Surprisingly so. 

“No, mate; I know which building he goes to.” 

“Oh, right.” 

A simple lapse in judgement due to just how hungry he was at the moment, though that wasn’t exactly surprising; he had only been half-listening to Jake this entire time, anyway, and feeding off of his anger. The message had been delivered, and Dave would be pleased. 

Thankfully, the rest of his day  _ wasn’t _ spent with Jake this time around, because Jake had an appointment with a friend pretty early on, and couldn’t stay for very long, which was good, because Karkat himself still hadn’t learned how to successfully disengage from conversation with this guy. It felt as if Jake were superglue, but of a social kind, and the closer Karkat got to him, the harder it was to get away again. He briefly wondered if Dirk felt the same way, or if it was the opposite to him; if Jake just wouldn’t stick hard enough. In his bedroom, he texted Dave of his success, and received praise for it, which warmed his chest, swelled his heart, and put a big, stupid grin on his face that he hid under the covers. It was a high that he rode throughout the day, texting Dave on and off while doing his homework, leisurely studying whatever textbook he happened to have in hand, and scrolling through Facebook during break, mostly reading the posts from Belia last night. Dave’s cousins had definitely gone, and posed for pictures, and left the entire campus wondering just what had happened to Dave and Dirk. Conspiracy theories were already appearing online, of a fight in the family, of a big secret revealed, broken trust and severed bonds, but Karkat knew the truth, and stopped himself from going down that kind of rabbit hole, like he used to do in the past. These rumors were all so wrong that Karkat wondered how much he actually knew about the Strilondes, when he had believed in this kind of absurd information for so long. Maybe Dave had really been right about that; he probably didn’t know him at all. 

At six, he went downstairs and waited for Dave to show up, warm in a thick sweater, the cool breeze like nothing to him, cooling his nose but nothing else. As public knowledge had it, parking around here was ass, and had already pissed Dave off yesterday, so, to avoid a rerun of that, he decided to make things easy, and hang around the front door for a while, watching traffic, watching people. Cars cruised past, students came and went, and, soon enough, the cold, metal Frankenstein that he knew rolled up the street with Dave behind the wheel. Aviator shades zeroed in on his face, and he came up to the passenger door. 

“Nice sweater; you’ll be very warm in it soon.” 

Halfway pulling the passenger door open, he damn near stopped, faltering instead, almost as if he had just tripped on something, because what the fuck did that mean? It couldn’t, no; his eyes widened, his face burned, and Dave couldn’t  _ possibly _ have meant that in that way. No. They hadn’t even talked about Acid Mushroom; Dave wouldn’t just, suddenly, well. No, he’d much rather not indulge himself in that train of thought, and, banishing it completely, hopped in, closing the door behind himself, now in the warmth of the car. Oh, was that what Dave had meant? 

“Yeah, I think I’ll be fine. This isn’t a furnace yet.” 

“It looks like one, though.” Here, Dave reached across the empty seat between them and touched the wool over his arm, as if petting it, sending goosebumps up to his neck. God, imagine if he had actually been touching his skin. No! “I mean, it’s nice, but it definitely wouldn’t be my first choice. I think it’s been getting a little too warm for that.”  

“Sure, Dave, maybe you and the rest of your species would think that, but what you fail to remember is that you and I don’t share the same gene pool.  _ I’m _ cold, now drive.” 

“Are you, though? I have the heater on.” 

“Well, not in here, obviously.” Glancing at the side-view mirror just out his window, he focused on how Dave ran a palm up his forearm before pulling back, making his hands close into fists, and his heart hammer him in the chest. Fuck. “There’s a car coming up behind us.” 

With that, Dave drove off. 

As it always seemed to be the case, the party at Strilonde’s had already started by the time he arrived, with music playing, drinks being passed around, and laughter damn near bleeding through the front door. The two of them walked in together, from a chilly spring night into what felt like a really nice indoor temperature, where the wind couldn’t disturb them, and his nose didn’t freeze right on his face. Roxy offered him a red solo cup first thing, followed by a high-five, where she complimented him for being their spy in this mission, but in hushed tones, as if in secrecy. So Dave had told  _ her _ about it, but not anybody else? He decided against asking, in case that’d ruin the whole thing, and settled for an inconspicuous touch of their cups together and a knowing nod instead. A sip from the cup, and, surprisingly, it wasn’t beer; no, there was something a lot stronger here that threw him right off, but that was also really, really good, and which kept him drinking it. If Roxy wanted to roofie him, then so be it; that had to be the sweetest roofie he’d ever had. Everybody talked, and drank, and when his eyes fell on Dirk, his blood ran cold; he had almost forgotten about the crash yesterday. 

Dirk looked like shit, of course, as someone who had just grated themselves on asphalt the day before, but it was funny; for as fucked up as he was, he was still far better dressed than everybody here, as was always the case. Not even flying off a bike could throw off his groove. Sure, he had a splinter on his arm, and bandages all over himself, but his hair was amazing, his outfit was on point, and even as the drunkest person here, he was still way more regal than everybody, somehow. He downed alcohol like it was water and spent the whole time sitting on the arm of the couch, leaning back on it as if his entire body ached everywhere, which was probably very true, and kept Karkat from approaching him at all. He was intimidating enough without being in constant pain, despite how much closer they had grown over this last week; it wasn’t about that. Karkat knew his limits, and he only chose not to follow them sometimes. This wasn’t one of them. 

While waiting for Jake to arrive, they all finished a whole bottle of vodka, opened up a Bacardi, did a shot, and when the Fireball hit the pits of Karkat’s stomach, he completely understood what Dave had meant earlier, because this shit burned. The cinnamon seared through his throat while the rest of it set his chest on fire, making heat crawl up his neck and his entire self combust. He had done shots before, but not like this. Holy shit, not like this. Taking off the sweater, he understood why no one was wearing a jacket here; he was already sweating. Dave laughed, of course; music to his ears, and also the gateway to his demise, but a punch on the arm and a stolen drink was payback enough. In Dave’s cup was something sweet and beet-red that he drank with little difficulty and only found himself feeling warmer from it. Goddamn, this was Hell. He shouldn’t have worn anything at all tonight. 

“Here, I’ll hang this for you.” Dave spoke around a cocky half-smile that made him want to kiss it, then bite it off, and took his sweater to the hanger by the door. He drank from Dave’s cup and felt lava consume his throat, watching Dave join the sweater with every other jacket here and come back to reclaim his drink, taking it straight out of Karkat’s hand. Seeing Dave drink from it was an experience. 

“Is that liquid fire?” He asked, feeling the warmth on his face, pumping on his cheeks, making him sweat. Behind the plastic rim, Dave grinned, and that hit him right in the chest, a sudden speed to his heart that he could feel on the skin. 

“Yeah, we harvest volcanoes in our free time. It’s a hobby.” 

“Oh, I know you guys; you’re on Discovery Channel. Extreme Hobbies, right?” 

“Right, the most dangerous hobbies in the world. We have a passion, and we follow it. We eat peppers for fun.” 

A loud chime, the doorbell, and everybody tensed, glancing over at the front door. Music flowed across the living room, clear, with no one to speak over it, everybody quiet all of a sudden; all conversation dead as they stared at the door together. The atmosphere shifted drastically, changed now, colder and weirder; Karkat’s heart went off in his chest. It was only Jake, and they all knew that, but, somehow, the monumentality of this meeting, the clashing of everybody here with their ex-friend was only now making itself known, cooling Karkat’s blood in its veins, and crawling up his throat. Next to him, Dave moved. 

“You should answer the door.” Dave offered, voice low, almost a whisper, but that everybody heard, anyway. They all turned to look at him then, and nodded their approval. Alright, then. One big breath, and Karkat crossed the living room for the door. 

Jake greeted him with a big, goofy smile on his face, and walked in with the perfect sort of joy that dropped, and crashed, and shattered everywhere the moment he turned around, the moment green eyes found the rest of the crowd. Wide, fearful, desolate; Jake glanced at Karkat stricken dumb, and he could almost see the puzzle in his head, slowly pieceing itself together. Karkat smirked wide, and that was the last piece. Pouring Jake a shot, he watched betrayal furrow Jake’s eyebrows and make his eyes burn. Oh, Jake hated him, and if Dave were closeby, he’d have toasted to that. 

“Welcome to our party, Jake.” Roxy announced cheerfully, though her tone wasn’t sincere, and her eyes shot daggers. 

“Here, you’re going to need this.” He spoke while offering Jake the shot, and having the guy take it. With no hesitation, Jake downed it, so he filled it back up again. 

“I thought we were friends.” Whispered in the space between them, barely above the music, and he didn’t think that anyone could really hear it. 

“We are friends; that’s why you’re here. I want you guys to get real and start talking again.” 

“ _ I’m _ not the one who didn’t reach out.” Loud enough for the others to hear him now. 

“And  _ we’re _ not the ones who walked out on you!” Roxy, loud and clear, taking a step closer. Jake downed the second shot before turning to look at her, an emotion on his face that Karkat couldn’t really read, but that set his eyebrows in a hard line and clenched his jaw. 

“That’s not what happened. I graduated before you; before all of you, actually, so of  _ course _ I’d leave for college first, but that didn’t mean we had to stop talking to each other.” 

“No, Jake, that’s not what I’m talking about. You killed our friendship before that, when you went around our backs and took Dirk with you.” 

“That’s not true. Dave knew about it.” 

Every single head here swiveled to glance at Dave next, and Karkat’s heart skipped. Roxy’s eyes were wide, jaw hanging open in disbelief, betrayed. 

“I learned about it just before you did. Don’t let him use that to turn us against each other.” 

“Dirk, what happened?” A shift in emotion, tone gentle and small as Jake glanced Dirk down, with none of the hardness from before, but with his brows twisted into a scowl and his eyes soft instead, almost sad. He didn’t know about the accident. 

“You lost the privilege to ask questions when you stopped talking to us.” Rose cut in, violet eyes sharp, squinting. 

“He’s fine.” Dave reassured, voice level, a hand tight around Dirk’s upper arm, just above his elbow, as if keeping him there. In silence, Dirk simply watched the circus catch on fire, with his jaw set and his hands closed into fists. 

“What did you do?” Jake tried again, staring straight at kamina glasses, voice firmer now, but still holding the same sentimentality from before. 

“That’s not your problem, and it’s in the past, anyway. He’s going to be fine.” Roxy, loud, sharp. 

“Was it yesterday?” 

“Why do you care?  _ You _ broke up with him; don’t act like you give a fuck three years later.” 

“I  _ do _ give a fuck.” Spoken as Jake glanced over at Roxy, then turned to look back at Dirk, something shifting in his face, a sort of enlightenment raising his brows. “Oh, God, did you crash after you left?” One step toward Dirk, but Roxy moved in front of him as a human shield, keeping him away. Green eyes never left pointy shades, staring straight over her head. 

“Listen, Jake, we didn’t invite you here for Dirk. You’re here because you bailed on us and refused to see the damage you’d done, so, now, we’re here to tell you how we feel about that. Now you can’t run.” 

“Go ahead, Roxy.” Dave from behind her, firm and stern. 

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Rose cut in, one eyebrow up, violets holding Jake’s face. “After Dirk left where? Do you know where he was? Were you… With him?” 

“Have you been talking to him this whole time?” John for the first time, a curious look on blue eyes. 

Jake swallowed thick at that, growing pale, eyes wide. No response from him, which was response enough. 

“Oh my god.” Roxy, glancing between the two traitors. “You’re together again.” 

Silence from the both of them, and, holy shit, was that true? No, there was no way; Jake had told him just yesterday that Dirk had refused to get with him, so that couldn’t have been true, but, then, why didn’t they just correct her right now? With a scowl on his forehead, Karkat remained silent, pulling a Dirk and watching the fire catch from the sidelines.  

“Not… Particularly.” Jake commented, voice low, eyes set on Dirk’s porcelain face. “We’ve been working that out, but…” 

“For how long?” Rose, eyebrows furrowed, a sharp tone to her voice. 

“Literally two days. It’s not--” 

“You only care about  _ him.” _ Roxy, absently, pink eyes wide on Jake’s face. “You’ve only ever cared about him.” 

“No, that’s not true. I valued our friendship, too, but you shut me out!” 

“Dirk is one of us!” 

“So are you, but I don’t suppose John got the same treatment that I did for getting with you.” 

Roxy’s face burst into flames at that, eyes wide, speechless. 

“That’s not the same.” Dave, low, a minute shake of the head, and green eyes immediately softened on him, almost even scared of him. “John didn’t go behind my back. He didn’t keep it a secret so I wouldn’t know. He didn’t lie to my fucking face and stabbed me in the back like you did.” 

“Well, Dave, believe it or not, that wasn’t about you. I’m--”

“Bullshit! You were my best fucking friend, Jake, and you  _ knew _ about him. I told you, and I asked you to be cool about it, and you said you were. You said he was one of us regardless. You said you’d look after him, dude, and I  _ trusted _ you. God, I trusted you.” 

“Dave, I--” 

“Save it. I don’t want to fucking hear it.” 

A look on Jake’s face, eyebrows set, shoulders down. 

“No, Dave, listen; I cared about you, too.” Soft, small, quiet, and Dave held up a hand to it, shutting Jake up. 

“Jake, um. I don’t want to discredit anybody here, but, uh. I just… I thought it was pretty shitty that you kind of, you know, ghosted us, I guess. You started hanging out with Dirk, and you didn’t even talk to us anymore. It kind of felt like we didn’t matter to you as much as he did.” John, shy, a shoulder up in a half-shrug. “I missed talking to you.” 

“I know, mate, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s always ever been about Dirk.” Roxy, her voice small, nearing a whisper, eyes down as she shook her head. “We brought you in, and we meant nothing to you.” 

“That’s not true. You were my best friends!” 

Another shake of the head, and Roxy turned away from the group, leaving everybody for the front door. She pulled a jacket from the nearest hanger and walked out. Everyone watched the door as it slammed shut, in silence for a second there, staring blankly at the tiny windows that lined the top and the deep carvings on the wood, painted white, before turning to glance at each other, a wide array of different emotions cutting across the circle. Karkat watched Dave sigh and let go of Dirk’s arm, allowing him to leave for the archway that led to the rest of the house, swiftly and quietly, without a single word about anything that had just happened. Jake watched him with an upwards scowl on his forehead, shoulders tense, jaw set. Rose and John went after Roxy, Jake went after Dirk, and Karkat stared at the side of Dave’s face, at aviator rims that followed Jake out and remained pointed toward the archway. 

“Are we following Jake?” He asked quietly, receiving a shake of the head in response. 

It was weird, the silence that fell over Dave all of a sudden, that cloaked him as he took a seat on the ground and picked up the Fireball next to the couch. It was wrong, and he wasn’t like this, but he poured two shots without a single word, and the air around him felt weird, and Karkat wanted to ask what was going on, but couldn’t. His mind raced, his lips parted, and he wanted to speak, but his heart pounded him in the chest, his blood traveled fast, and there was nothing on his tongue. In silence, he sat down next to Dave and took the second glass from the ground. It was easy to tell that Dave was fucking pissed. 

“Here’s to chaos and ruin and Jake being the exact same piece of shit from three years ago. Cheers.” 

“Uh, cheers.” 

A clink of their glasses, and cinnamon burned down his throat again. It felt like drinking sin. 

Swiftly, Dave refilled their glasses. 

“Um, I’m sorry.” He damn near whispered, feeling his heart punch him in the throat from it. “I guess that’s not how you wanted tonight to go.” 

“No, it actually was. I knew it’d be a shit-show, but it’s what we’ve been needing for a very long time, even if Jake hasn’t changed, bro’s still not over him, and nothing’s been patched up with time. That’s just not how it works. I  _ thought _ we’d push him away with all of this, but, apparently, we’ve just pushed him right to bro instead.” A deep sigh, a shake of the head, and Dave downed his second shot. Karkat followed suit, feeling the fire hit his stomach, his entire body numb. The world swirled, and swayed, and toppled over, but he remained sitting pretty, not a trace of that journey on his face. Great. 

They both breathed in. 

“Karkat.” Voice soft and quiet now, with none of that anger from before, and it had his heart speeding, punching him in the throat. Dave turned to look him in the face, a hand on the ground to lean on, aviator glasses reflecting the fairy lights that lined the ceiling, and he breathed in, and his heart beat, and the loaded atmosphere was gone. “Thanks for helping me, dude. For everything today.” 

His chest filled up, warm, his face prickled, and the fire inside of him burned. He almost smiled, eyes wide, butterflies in his bloodstream. 

“Just… Don’t worry about it.” 

“No, dude, I’m serious. I appreciate you.” 

His heart fluttered, and soared, and punched him in the ribs, and, God, he didn’t even have what to say here, because he had been waiting for this all weekend, and Dave  _ cared, _ and appreciated his efforts, and appreciated  _ him. _ His face burned, the fairy lights on Ray-Bans shone, and he parted his lips to speak, but couldn’t, staring at the rims of Dave’s glasses instead, the brushed over bangs that touched them, the hint of an eyebrow under the split. A tongue to swipe over his lips, and he knew what to say now, but Dave leaned closer, swiftly, and cut him short with a kiss that shut his eyes and pushed him back, hard, heavy on his face, almost hard enough to meet with teeth. 

His lungs breathed in, his heart hammered him in the chest, and his skin was on fire. A hand came up to touch Dave’s face, to feel his skin and grab his neck and ground himself, because Dave pushed hard, hungry, and he leaned back, feeling his heart beating in the roof of his mouth. A tongue on his bottom lip, flat on his skin, licking it, made him part his lips and feel the flames at the pit of his stomach consume him whole. A hand found his jaw and dragged along it, to the back of his head, fingers through his hair and a thumb on his jaw, holding him close, holding him in it as Dave leaned over him, tongue against his own, on his palate, down his throat, round teeth on his lips to pull and tug and drive him insane. His face pumped against Dave’s skin, his entire world was apples and cinnamon and Dave drew him closer, bit his lips, met with his tongue, and made his body catch on fire, thighs tingling, knees up to close his legs. He could feel his own enjoyment, and it was embarrassing; horrifying, even, but Dave kissed him hungry, and deep, and breathless, and he touched Dave’s chest with a hand, grabbing his shirtfront in a fistful, a silent pleading. This was a lot, and he wanted more of it. This was a lot, and they were approaching the point of no return. 

Teeth on his tongue, a shallower kiss, two, and Dave pulled back, a single inch between them, the two of them breathing in the same air. He was going to pass the fuck out. Slowly, Dave let go of him, and he did the same in return, watching Dave lean back and fill up his lungs, chest out, followed by a slow exhale. He brought his feet close to himself and kept them together, legs as if glued shut while Dave took someone’s half-empty cup and drank from it. Honestly, he had nothing to say right now, but if Dave wanted to push him down and fuck him on this rug, he’d be more than willing to help. Instead, Dave brought the cup back down, excused himself, and left the room. 

Alright, well. He had to take care of a little something himself, anyway, just real quick, and took that as an opportunity to get up and pay Dave’s bathroom a little visit. Cold water splashed on his face, cold hands rubbed it, and he breathed, deep, deep, trying to put out the fire, trying to cool himself down, because that had been nothing, and Dave was chill. It had been everything, actually, and he honestly wished that Dave hadn’t stopped, but it was fine. Dave didn’t like him that way, and it was fine. He washed his face, drank from the tap, shut it off and turned to dry off, reaching for the closest towel only until he realized that there were two, and they were different. Letting go of the orange one, he dried his face on the red one next to it. It smelled of soap, not Dave, but he honestly shouldn’t have expected any different. 

Dry and composed, he left the bathroom, coming upon Dave’s mess of a bed right in front of the door, a mere handful of feet from it. He didn’t know why, but instead of going back to the living room, he walked to Dave’s bed, took off his shoes, and got in it, under the blanket and everything, covered to the horns, with his face down on Dave’s pillow, surrounded by his scent. Smothered in it, actually, and his heart went off, and his entire body shivered, and this was Heaven. He moved around to feel the blankets on his skin, soft on his naked arms, legs brushing on the mattress. His heart punched him in the chest and he breathed in deep, intoxicated by apples, choked by cinnamon; a sort of elation in his veins that he had never felt before. Dave could walk in at any minute, but he didn’t find that to be an issue, because maybe Dave wouldn’t see him under the blanket, and maybe Dave wouldn’t mind it. He moved, and wiggled, and when his shirt rode up a bit, and a sliver of his belly touched the mattress below it, goosebumps ran across his skin, making him grab the hem and pull it up. Not off, but up to his chest, so his stomach found the bedspread and his entire body shivered. He had no idea what this was, and was far too drunk to care, and when he heard his name in Dave’s voice, calling for him from the living room, he didn’t even have the decency to feel guilty. Instead, excitement rushed down his veins and had him turning around to lay on his back, head poking out from the top of the blanket, eyes glancing at the door. He watched Dave come in with a flutter in his heart. 

“Oh, you’re here.” 

“I’m in your bed.” 

“Yeah.” Spoken lightly as Dave closed the door behind himself, making Karkat’s blood burn. “Looks like you’re going to Sleepy Town Junction, dude.” 

“No fucking way; I’m cold.” 

“Really? After all of that Fireball?” One eyebrow up over the rim, and Dave took his shoes off, kicking them by the door. Karkat watched that with his heart racing. 

“Yeah, it’s warm until it isn’t. It burns, and then it doesn’t.” 

A scoff from Dave, and a half-grin rounded his face as he walked over, Karkat’s heart choking him, his entire body warm. The Ray-Bans came off and were placed onto the nightstand before Dave took a seat on the edge of the mattress, a hand on Karkat’s shoulder to push him a bit. 

“C’mon, make some room.” 

He did, scooting closer to the edge, just so Dave could lay down above the blanket, shoulder to shoulder with him. There was barely enough room for the both of them here. 

“What, are we sharing the bed tonight?” 

“Nah, there’s no way I can sleep like this. We’d only fit here okay if we spooned.” 

“Alright, I’ll be the little spoon.” 

“Yeah, no shit; of course you would be.” 

Turning to lie on his side, he scowled, watching Dave turn his head a degree over in response to that, red eyes holding the stare, the ghost of a smile on Dave’s lips. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“I mean, it’s my bed, bro. Like, of course you’d be the one getting spooned.” 

“So if we were in my bed, you’d be the little spoon, then?” 

“No, it doesn’t work like that.” 

“Why not? I’m following  _ your _ logic, shitstain! In  _ my _ bed,  _ you’re _ the little spoon!” 

“No, dude, I’m way taller than you. That wouldn’t work.” 

“Of course it would! God, you’re not making any fucking sense.” 

“No, it’s like… Like, if I spoon you, that’s the natural order of things.” 

“That’s bullshit. Here, turn around.” 

“No, no way! I’m not turning the fuck around,  _ you _ turn around!” 

“No, let me show you what I mean!” Spoken as he took Dave’s shoulder and pushed it to make Dave turn, but was retaliated by an arm that brushed his hand away, Dave shoving him on the shoulder right back. 

“No,  _ I’ll _ show you how this works.” 

In their own drunken attempts to make each other turn around, their shoves and grabs and broken holds only got worse, with hands grabbing and pulling and being shoved away, Dave leaning up over him, and the blanket sort of trapping him on the bed. He kicked the blanket off, Dave helped him with it, and then immediately used that to his advantage, taking Karkat’s upper arms and turning him around, pinning him down to the mattress, the side of his face crushed onto the pillow. He struggled and tried to turn, but only backed right onto Dave’s chest, with an arm across his torso to trap his own arms and hold him close, cinnamon in his lungs, Dior on his skin. He breathed in deep, and resigned, because, honestly, this wasn’t all that bad, and Dave was  _ holding _ him, skin on skin and a hand around his wrist, warm, burning. His heart pounded against his ribs, his face melted, and he kept it turned aside, despite how dark it was, just in case Dave could somehow see the color of it. Dave held him tight, nose buried in his hair, breathing quick, almost panting, and his shirt was still up, half of his stomach was out, and Dave’s arm burned where it touched him, making his blood run hot. This was kind of everything that he had ever dreamed of. 

“Look, this totally works; you’re, like, just the right size. I told you.” Spoken partly into his hair, Dave’s breath hot on his skin, shifting around for comfort, despite the fact that this was damn near the opposite of that. 

“This has nothing to do with size, Dave; this is strategy.” Angry and half-muffled into the pillow, he made to turn, trying to get comfortable, but Dave held him tight, fingers strong on his wrist, body scooting closer for a better restraint and shocking him on the back, somehow. He had no idea what that was, but it touched the exposed skin of his back and it was so cold that he almost fucking yelped from it, arching away instead, legs kicking the air. “Jesus, Dave, your fucking pants!” 

“What?” Dave’s face touched his ear as he spoke, making it flap back out of instinct, a small struggle ensue, and the cold son of a bitch touch his back again. 

“Your fucking belt or something! Goddammit, it  _ sucks!” _

“Oh.” 

At that, the hold was easily undone, and Dave moved back a bit, away from him, giving him some room for a change. With his arms free again, he pulled his shirt back down and turned, watching Dave’s hands work on his belt buckle next, his heart speeding off; what the fuck. Dave undid it, hoisted up his hips, and pulled the belt off, while all that Karkat could really do was stare at his crotch and barely breathe. A million images of everything that could possibly happen right now flashed right before his eyes, and he found himself ready for any of it. For all of it. The belt was thrown off the side of the bed, and Dave turned, suddenly very, very close, making him turn right back around out of instinct, as quickly as if he had been burned. Alright, so maybe he wasn’t all that ready after all. 

“No, hold on; lift your head up.” 

A hand on his side, warm over his shirt, and he complied, acquiescent all of a sudden, letting Dave slip an arm under his head for him to rest on. Obediently laying down on it, he got comfortable, actually comfortable this time around, and felt Dave do the same behind him, a warm chest pressed up to his back, and a heavy arm around him, hand on his naked arm, holding it loosely, a thumb to swipe over the skin. This was… Yeah, this was Heaven; this was exactly what Heaven looked like. With the belt off, and his shirt mostly down, Dave could get close, and it was fine; the button of his jeans brushed the low of Karkat’s back, but nothing really touched him, and something inside of him wanted to push back just to feel Dave up, to bump his ass on Dave’s crotch and lock in place. God, what would that even feel like? Would Dave grind on him, breathe on his neck? 

“You can move your ears.” Whispered into his hair and he shivered. 

“Yeah, I can; what a fucking discovery, Sherlock.” 

“No, I mean, I can’t do that. I didn’t know you could.” 

“You can’t?” Turning back a little bit, his face trying to catch a glimpse of Dave, ear brushing over Dave’s cheek. 

“No. Well, not as much.” Breath warm next to his ear, and his heart beat, and his lungs filled, and time felt still. 

“Huh.” 

“You don’t have a belly button.” Spoken absently, as Dave moved, and a hand left his arm to touch the fabric of his shirt instead, rubbing his stomach over it, making his body burn and he want it lower down. God, much lower down, past the waistband of his pants and under his boxers, fingers warm on his skin, down his body; he shivered. 

“I hatched from an egg, Dave; of course I don’t.” 

“I don’t know, dude, I just never stopped to think about it. It’s pretty crazy, I mean, how much do you know about humans? Probably way more than I know about you.” 

“I know you’re hairy and your blood’s all the same color.” 

“Wait, you don’t have hair?” 

“Only on my head, idiot.” 

The hand over his stomach pulled his shirt up, Dave shifting to glance him down, and his heart skipped, an elbow pushed Dave back, and a hand quickly drew his shirt down again, fast on the hem of it, keeping it there. Fuck. 

“What the fuck!” 

“What’s that on your ribs?” 

“Dave, you can’t just fucking do that, bro! What the fuck, man!” 

“Alright, chill, but what was that?” 

He breathed, heart beating out of his chest. 

“It’s a fucking grub scar, you insensitive xenophobe!” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Look it up, asshole.” 

“How many do you have?” 

“Three on each side.” 

“Do they hurt?” 

“No. Dave, listen; I can’t stay.” He spoke quickly, rolling over the edge of the mattress, making to leave, but having Dave hold him in bed with an arm around his torso. 

“No, why not?” 

“We have classes tomorrow, dude. I can’t spend the night here.” 

“Yeah, you can. You’ll shower in the morning.” 

“No, look; this was fun, but I gotta go.” 

Untangling himself from Dave’s grasp took effort, but his drunk ass managed. 

“Thanks for being weird. I’ll see you in class.” 

“Let me at least drive you, bro.” 

He laughed, spontaneous, a burst from the very center of his chest. 

“Okay, dipso; like I’d let you drive.” 

“That… Did you just laugh?” 

“Goodnight, Dave.” Spoken as he rounded the bed for the door. With one quick jump, Dave left the bed to join him. 

“Hold up, I’ll drive you. I’m not  _ that _ over the edge yet.” 

“Alright, well. If you crash, make sure to leave no survivors.” 

“Pinky promise, dude.” 


	13. Concrete proof of Dirk's correctness

Staring at his own reflection in the mirror, at the dark bags under his eyes and the pale gray of his skin, he thought of last night, and realized that he didn’t remember much of it at all. It had been warm, Jake had shown up, and there had been a car ride at some point, Dave talking to him. Dave a lot, actually, everywhere; the entirety of the night spent with Dave, probably, or so it felt. Breakfast was a package of cookies from his bag, scarfed down on the way to campus, afraid that he’d run into Jake if he stayed in the building for too long. They vanished in a blink; he was far hungrier than he had thought. None of his very selective memories featured any food, so it was safe to assume that he hadn’t eaten all night long, rendering him a hungry fool right now. The cafeteria offered breakfast, and this was literally the first time, in the entirety of these last two years, that he stopped by before class. No one must’ve had anything to eat, either, because there had been no food. There usually wasn’t. At least, he didn’t remember any. There had been Fireball, a lot of Fireball, and that cocktail in red solo cups that Roxy had made for everyone, the roofie that hadn’t roofied him at all. With some breakfast in his belly, he left for class. 

Dave had poured him a lot of Fireball; he remembered the burn in his stomach and the heat on his face, the way it had come up his throat but ultimately managed to stay down. He wasn’t sure where everybody had gone to, but there had been a tumult, a fight; Jake had left with Dirk, and he had stayed with Dave, just the two of them, in the living room. Dave had kissed him. Oh my god, Dave had totally kissed him; the super, _super_ hot makeout session on the ground, against the foot of the couch, and then laying in Dave’s bed, Dave’s hand on his wrist, Dave behind him. Holy shit, had they…? No, there was no way that he would’ve forgotten something like that; it was fucking impossible. They had ended up in Dave’s bed somehow, and Dave had taken off his belt, but they hadn’t done anything. There had been a car ride, and Dave had kissed him. Oh, god, had Dave kissed him _again?_ He actually, legitimately wasn’t sure. A goodbye kiss didn’t sound like Dave at all, but, then again, none of that sounded like Dave, either. Except, somehow, it was. 

As it usually went with him, when he thought of Dave so much, and so fervently, too, Dave showed up. In the hallway between periods, he saw him, calmly walking over with two hands in his pockets and his trademark insouciance trailing after him like cologne. Planted near a locker that definitely wasn’t his, he watched Dave come over and stop right before him, almost like a dream. His head was light, breath came in short, and he must’ve still been drunk from last night. 

“Hey, dude. You good?” 

A bounce of the brows, eyes wide, and he hoped that nothing was showing on his face from that. 

“Yeah, for sure. What’s up?” 

“I, uh.” Hesitation in Dave’s voice, a tongue to swipe over his lips, and if Karkat wasn’t so affected by that, he would’ve found this whole drop in confidence weird. “What are you doing later?” 

“Studying for finals, probably. Why? Don’t tell me there’s something going on tonight, because I’m not going. I will literally kick you out of my room if I have to; don’t try me.” 

“Nah, chill. I’m coming over later, but it’s just ‘cause I wanna talk. There’s nothing going on. I mean, there’s Sub Rosa on Friday, but we’ll discuss that some other time. When can I drop by?” 

Alright, sure, that wasn’t super weird at all, and it totally didn’t freak him out. Was this going to be about the kiss last night; possible double kisses? His heart skipped, blood running cold. 

“Anytime you want, bro; it’s cool.” 

“Alright, uh.” Cutting himself short, Dave turned a bit, aviators up at a small group of people that were passing by, walking down the hallway, relatively close. They spoke loudly, Terezi’s name in the middle of the conversation, but nothing about it that Karkat could really catch. None of what Dave had obviously overheard just now. “Okay, I’ll see you later, dude.” 

“Alright, just text me before you show up.” Half-shouted after Dave as he left, following the loud group down the hallway, obviously not listening anymore. 

His heart felt surprisingly heavy from that. It was stupid, but he closed his hands into fists and breathed in, deep, feeling his chest ache, an echo resonaning across it. They were friends, good friends; of course Dave would care to hear what people thought of Terezi, what word there was about her amid the crowd, what she had been doing recently. She must’ve just gotten back from her weekend getaway with her clique, and that was probably what those people had been talking about. It was fine; he didn’t care. Dave was her friend, and that wouldn’t change; he’d have to live with that. Maybe they made out sometimes, and maybe no one really knew about it, but that wasn’t all that different from what _he_ did with Dave, now, was it? Except he didn’t want to share. Feeling his lungs throb, he breathed out, and walked to class. 

 _Fuck._  

No issue; Dave would come over later, and they’d talk about whatever he wanted to talk about, and they’d continue being friends, like last night had never happened, like Acid Mushroom was a fever dream, like grabbing each other in Dave’s bed had been nothing. He sat in class, stared at the professor’s face, and thought of Dave; what he had overheard, what Terezi had been up to, if he had left to go straight over to her and ask her about it. What he felt for her, how much he liked her, how much he wanted to fuck her, and if they had ever actually done that in secret, despite Dirk’s conviction that they hadn’t, despite Dave’s aversion towards quadrants. Would he ever have her all to himself? Would he want that? Probably. Yeah, probably; he must’ve had a crush on her for a long time now, if his entire family knew about it. They were close, and that was fine. They were close, and he liked her, and he wanted her, and he probably appreciated her like he appreciated Karkat, and he had probably told her everything that he had told Karkat, and she was probably a much better friend than Karkat was. She was a girl, so, naturally, Dave liked her more. He saw her in a different light. 

Walking home almost felt like a daydream, floaty, barely real, with thoughts clouding his head, eyes glazed over, and no attention to his immediate surroundings; the present passing him by. A buzzing on his leg, and he blinked, as if suddenly pulled back to reality, standing just outside of his building. He pulled out his phone to see Dave’s name on the caller ID, and his heart dropped, and squeezed, and he almost didn’t want to answer. Almost. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, Karkat. Do you still have classes today?” 

“No, I’m leaving right now. Why?” 

Did Dave want to see him? His heart skipped. 

“Okay, sick; can you spend the day with bro? I’m kind of busy right now.” 

Oh, of course not. God, he shouldn’t even have humored the thought. What a fucking idiot. 

“Why, dude? That’s weird. I mean, shouldn’t _he_ be asking me that?” 

“No, God; remember the whole thing with the rules that I told you about, like, two days ago? The stuff from Saturday that you wanted to know what to do about. Well, this is it; I need you to watch him today.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Just hang out for a while, I don’t know; be around. He just can’t be alone right now. Got it?” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

“Thanks, you’re saving my life. You don’t have to stay long, just make sure he understands why you’re there. I’ll probably stop by your place around six.” 

“Okay…” So he had to hang out with Dirk this afternoon, but be home before six, then. Weird. “I’ll see you at six, I guess.” 

“Alright, thanks again.” 

End of call. Huh. What the fuck was going on? It seemed that the more Dave explained this whole situation with Dirk, the less he understood what it actually was. They were trying to keep Dirk from himself, whatever that meant, but, at the same time, that had to do with Jake, somehow, and, also, he had to invite himself to Dirk’s house and watch him like a caged animal for a while. Not sure for how long, but not too long, either, making sure that Dirk knew what was happening. God, that was fucking bizarre, and Dirk was probably going to be very pissed at him, too. Unlocking his phone to call Dirk for a ride, he didn’t even have to; in his left, Dirk promptly strode past, reminding him that they still went to the same building, even if they didn’t always have classes together. Dirk was a lot smarter than he was, and probably didn’t share many of his idiot classes for dumbasses. With a small jog, he caught up to Dirk. 

“Hey, are you going home?” 

A passing glance, kamina glasses tilting the slightest bit in his direction, and back ahead. 

“Yes, I am. Why?” 

“Well, because, um. I’m, uh, I’m coming with you.” 

Glasses turned to glance at him again, this time making heat rush up his neck and burn his cheeks. He felt like an idiot saying that to an audience. 

“Dave asked me to spend the day with you.” Blurted out and expunged from the depths of his soul. 

“Right.” 

Dirk didn’t sound convinced, but he had agreed to this weird, fucked up, bizarre arrangement, anyway, which was what mattered, so he kept quiet. 

“Do you have the car keys?” 

“Me? No. Why would I?” 

“Because you were with Dave.” 

What? How the fuck did Dirk know that? No, whatever; that wasn’t the point right now. 

“He only stopped by for a second. I mean, he didn’t give me the keys, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Huh.” A pause, contemplative, even though Karkat was barely following. Both figuratively and literally, because Dirk was tall, and his legs were no joke. One stride of his were two normal steps for Karkat. 

“Can I ask what’s going on?” Breathy from the exercise, damn near breaking a sweat here. Goddammit; did he ever slow down when walking with everybody else? John Egbert must infuriate him. 

“Elaborate your question and I might answer it.” 

“Okay, that’s fair. So if Dave has the car, what’s happening next? Is he giving us a ride?” 

“No, we’re taking the bus.” 

His heart made for his throat. 

“Do you know where he’s going?” 

“Well, taking into account the fact that Terezi just got dumped, my guess is he’s visiting her. She didn’t come to class today.” 

Every single word felt like a needle through the chest, and his heart throbbed, and his blood cooled, and if he gave even one more shit about any of that, he would’ve been screaming right now, but he held it in, swallowed it down, and kept a straight face. Sure, there was an incredible pain in his throat and his hands trembled, but he was fine. It was fine. He had poked the bear, and the bear had fought back; he should’ve known better than to ask about something that he didn’t want to hear, regardless of how Dirk knew all of this information, regardless if it affected him very, very deeply. He hummed out his acknowledgement to that, nodded stiffly, and kept quiet, because opening his mouth right now would’ve just set the scream free. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but he still cares about her, bro. A lot. I know you two made out and everything, but that’s just not enough to change fact.” 

Part of him burst into flames to have Dirk know all of that, while the other part of him sat by the pool, sipped on some lemonade, and kind of already expected it. The two brothers were close, and if Dirk told Dave about his personal life, then Dave surely did the same in return. It was only fair. 

“I know, it’s fine. It’s totally chill.” 

“No, it’s not, but you have the upper hand on her, so don’t worry. You got this.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but don’t stop talking about it. What upper hand?” 

A sidelong glance, pointy shades reflecting sunlight across its lenses, and his heart skipped, his face prickled. Right, that. 

“Are you telling me that they’ve never…?” 

“No, they haven’t. Trust me, I would know.” 

Oddly enough, he did trust him about that. 

“Do you think they might?” 

“You already know the answer to that. Rationally, you do.” 

Alright, yeah, he did, and his chest squeezed, and breath came in shorter, but his face didn’t show it. He was getting good at that now. 

“If it’s any consolation, he cares about you, too.” 

“No, not like that. He cares about us in different ways.” 

“I’m not sure that he does. He talks about the two of you the same way.” 

His pulse raced, eyes wide. 

“What do you mean? What’s he saying about me?” 

“I mean the way he talks about you. He worries and he cares. Dude, you’re practically one of us at this point.” 

“But she isn’t, so what’s the similarity? What do we even have in common?” 

A loose shrug, disinterested. 

“You know what.” 

“I _don’t_ know what. We’re completely different people.” 

“Who he cares about just the same, Karkat. Listen, man, just take the win and keep it, alright? Stop obsessing about her, and focus on the money here, bro. Streamline your efforts into that. So far, you’ve been making headway, and that’s what matters. Yeah, he’s with her right now, but that only means he could be with you later. Chill.” 

One breath in, one breath out, and Dirk was a surprisingly good life coach. He’d never admit to that out loud, though. 

At the Strilonde’s house, he followed Dirk in a bee-line across the first two rooms to the garage, where Dirk’s Frankenstein bike was parked, or what was left of it from the accident. Most of the metal carcass had been removed, and Dirk had clearly been tinkering with it for a while now, smoothing out the metal, removing the dents and fixing whatever else had been broken. It probably still rode, but, without the bodywork, it didn’t look very safe. The damage it had undergone from the fall really put it into perspective, and made Karkat wonder what Dirk’s arms looked like under the bandages and the splint. Dirk took the only chair around, so Karkat sat on an empty corner of his workbench. Fuck it. 

“How’s your arm doing?” 

“Fine.” 

He opened his mouth to make a joke about it, to ask Dirk how was it that he had been taking notes and doing his homework with his right arm all fucked up, when Dirk picked up a file with his left, and brought it to the portion of the bodywork that he had been smoothing out. Okay, so he had probably never really noticed that before. 

“You’re left-handed.” Absently, out of his mouth without a thought to it. 

“Congratulations, you’ve figured me out.” 

“I just never noticed. Lucky, huh.” 

Right hand turned up into a half-shrug, splint moving with it. Dirk’s jacket was pulled up to the elbows, practically connecting to the splint, making the black of it match with the black of the jacket and almost even swallow it. As far as Karkat could tell, he didn’t wear black very much, and had probably chosen this outfit on purpose. White and orange shirt, white pants, and black shoes. The fact that these pants weren’t pulled up to the knees when they normally were rubbed him the wrong way, because they were clearly meant for that, with the cuffs at the bottom and everything. Dirk must’ve been hiding his legs for a reason, and Karkat wasn’t a complete idiot as to wonder why. God, he must really have been driving like a bat out of hell last Saturday. It was impressive that he hadn’t reacted similarly last night, with Jake following him out of the room. Hm. 

“Can I ask what happened yesterday?” Voice level, trying to keep any ulterior motives out of it. “You know, after the shit-show went down, and Jake left with you.” 

“Right, yeah. We talked in the kitchen for a while; he had a lot to say about everybody else, and just kind of went off on them. He was very upset.” 

Fuck Jake. 

“What did you think about it?” 

A nonchalant shrug. 

“Everything that he heard was deserved. He didn’t have to like it, but he can’t say that he didn’t have it coming.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because I had already told him everything that he needed to know. There was nothing else for me to say.” 

“So you just stood there and listened to him vent for, what, forty-five minutes? Is that it?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“Well…” God, what the fuck? “Well, what do you think about him? I mean, I know everyone resents him for leaving, but I don’t know what you think, and, if I got anything from that conversation, it’s that your thoughts are kind of the only ones that matter to him.” 

“Alright, first of all, that’s not even remotely true.” Hand up, holding the file as Dirk swiveled the chair around to stare Karkat in the face and amp up the seriousness of this talk by one hundred percent. Shit. “Yeah, we all fucking hate him, but the opposite isn’t there. He cares, and that’s what prompted his whole rant last night in the first place. Damage control is not his specialty, and consequences are foreign concepts; he’s never had to deal with any of that in his life, so, yeah, last night was a catastrophe; what else did you expect? He only came to me because I’m the only one who’s still talking to him, and he only reached out to me because I’m the only one who responded. I’m not any more important than anybody else around here.” 

“Except you’re fucking him, and the others aren’t.” 

A vague gesture, and Dirk swiveled back around. 

“Except for that.” 

“Do you really think that that doesn’t make you at least a little bit more important than the others? I don’t mean to understate them or anything, I just mean that, you know, there’s a difference.” 

“There really isn’t.” 

“No… There kind of is. I, listen. I’ve never been in a relationship, or really been with anyone, but there’s, like, the person you like, and then there’s everybody else. There’s strangers, there’s friends, and then there’s that _one_ person, and they’re all in different categories, because you have different feelings about them. Strangers don’t mean shit, friends mean a little more, and that one person means the most. It’s not the same.” 

“I understand where you’re coming from, Karkat, and I agree with you; what you’re saying is true, but it’s just not what’s happening here.” 

“What are you talking about? Of course it is. You don’t fuck your friends, do you?” 

“No, but that’s what that is; Jake and I, we’re not together. We’ve never been together, not really; it doesn’t matter. I’m not a different person to him, because I’m not _the_ person; I’m just his friend. Both of us, we’re just friends, like he’s friends with everybody else, so, no; my opinion is worth just as much as anybody else’s.” 

“Okay, listen, I’m not talking about labels here, I’m talking about feelings. Sure, you two are friends, that’s great, cool; I’m friends with Dave, too, but it’s nothing like being friends with you. This is fine, it’s a nice time, but being with Dave is completely different, because there’s something else there. Yeah, I’m sure Jake loves hanging out with your cousins and all, but hanging out with _you_ is different, because there’s something else there, dude.” 

“Goddammit, Karkat, this is exactly what I’m saying, bro; there’s _nothing_ else there. That’s the fucking point.” 

“That is fucking bullshit, dude. There’s no way. You’re so much closer than he is to everybody else, man; bringing you all down to the same level is just insane to think about. You’re not just a friend to him.” 

“Yeah, I am, but whatever; high school was an experience. The fact of the matter is that no one’s willing to talk to him right now, except for me, and that’s why he’s been listening to me, because there’s nobody else to listen to. That’s the jig.” 

“So you’re friends with benefits.” 

“We’re not even friends.” 

“You _just_ told me you are.” 

“I said we used to be.” 

“No, you said you are.” 

“Alright, fine; I take back whatever it is you think I said about being Jake’s friend, because we aren’t friends. Is that good enough for you?” 

“It’s not, but I’ll take it. So what do _you_ think about him? You went around my question and never answered it; don’t think I didn’t notice.” 

“That’s the opposite of what happened. I just told you my opinion on him.” 

“Oh, really? Why is it that, when I think about everything you just said, I can’t pin-point exactly how you feel about him, then?” 

“Because you weren’t paying attention. Your shortcomings are not my responsibility.” 

“Okay, let’s pretend I’m a fucking idiot right now, and ignore the fact that you don’t want to tell me what you really think about him.” 

“That’s not true, because I already did.” 

“So do it again. How do you feel when you’re with him? What do you think about his idiot accent? Where does your mind go when he takes off his shirt and shows off his tank top tan?” 

A half-swivel, kamina glasses turned to glance back at him. 

“How do you know he has a tank top tan?” 

“I didn’t. I know he works out in one, so I just guessed. How does that make you feel?” 

Swiveling back and forth a little bit, still in place, with both feet on the ground. 

“Nothing, whatever; who doesn’t have a tan?” 

“You. Dude, I know you have every reason in the book to despise the guy, so why are you still talking to him? Why is he still sticking around?” 

“There’s no definite answer to that, Karkat. It’s psychology, it’s sociology, it’s anthropology; it’s a lot that I’m not getting into, but Jake, he has this sort of magnetic field around him that just pulls everybody in, no matter how hard you’re trying to get away from it. He gets under your skin and buries himself like a parasite; he’s in your thoughts, and in your heart, changing how you go about life, changing how you feel about him, and you don’t even notice. It’s inevitable, and addictive, and impossible to cure. He leaves, and you experience withdrawal; he comes back, and it kills you, but you go in for another fix, anyway. It’s unavoidable. He’s my friend, but he isn’t, and I hate him, but I don’t. It’s a lot, all the time.” Pointy shades stared at the garage door as Dirk talked, file hanging from his hand. “His return is extremely unfavorable, but, also, it isn’t. The others are angry because it’s a wound reopened, and, for as much as I agree with that, I also feel differently. Jake’s my best friend.” 

Shades turned to glance at him, Dirk sitting sideways, parallel to the workbench. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, because Dave has that same effect on you.” 

Lips parted to agree with that first part, but never managed to speak, because that second part just hit him like a slap to the face, eyes wide, cheeks burning. Dirk wasn’t wrong, but that still didn’t excuse the generous read. 

“You’re asking me something you already know, so there’s your answer.” Spoken as Dirk swiveled back around to resume his work. 

Very consciously, he decided not to revive the subject, and, instead, watched Dirk work on the bike for a while, asking him about it in the meantime; the wiring, the framework, the attachments, the battery; how he had found the necessary parts for it, how he had shaped it to balance out his weight, how it even worked with a smart key. It was a much lighter subject, which Dirk was a lot more inclined to participate in, and that Karkat could contribute to a little bit, even if he had never really opened up a bike, or even ridden one; he knew the basics of mechanics, and that was enough for conversation. Dirk told him the whole story behind his vehicles; the junkyard visits, the afternoons spent scavenging, how long it took him to find the right framework for what he wanted. It was a project of passion, like his robots, glasses, and computer, and kept him occupied. Karkat didn’t ask him why it was so necessary for him to be occupied all the time, and contented himself with what he got. 

“Where’s everybody else?” He asked eventually, late in the afternoon, noticing the peace and quiet of the house. “Your cousins and Egbert.” 

“They’re at John’s house. They slept there last night, after Roxy left.” 

“Right, I remember that. Man, she was really upset; I don’t know how you’re going to get her back.” 

That comment had Dirk straightening up, a tilt to his head. 

“What do you mean? She’ll come back eventually; living in John’s house is not even an option.” 

“I don’t know. With the way she holds year-long grudges, I wouldn’t be surprised if she just moved in.” 

“She has no reason to do that; it wouldn’t affect Jake at all.” 

“No, but it’d affect you.” 

That had Dirk turning around to glance at him, kamina shades reflecting portions of his face back at him. 

“She’s not upset with me, she’s upset with Jake. He’s the one who hurt her.” 

“Well, you’re sort of in cahoots with him right now, and you’ve both been going behind her back to meet up and stuff. I mean, it kind of looks like she’s pretty upset with you, too.” 

Absolute silence from Dirk, sitting up straight, shoulders tense; clearly, he hadn’t given this a single thought before, and Karkat had probably just shattered the flimsy illusion that he had been living in all day. In Dave’s own words, there was chaos, and there was ruin, and if Dirk really thought that he was completely innocent in the making of it all, then he couldn’t have been more wrong about that. 

“I don’t know if sh--”

“ _You_ orchestrated last night.” Voice loud, cutting him off. “You and Dave together, so why would she be upset with me? That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“She’s not upset about last night, dude; she’s upset because you’re in cahoots with Jake, dumbass. This is war, and you’re obviously siding with the enemy right now.” 

“This _isn’t_ war; we’re trying to make amends, and I’m helping. I’m the guy at the other end of Jake’s earpiece, and yours, too, when Dave’s not interfering. The crowd is livid, and I’m on damage control. I’m Jake’s campaign fucking manager, and Dave’s setting the fucking flames with you helping him do it.” 

“No, that’s not it; Dave’s the opposition, but he’s not trying to burn Jake alive. He’s only bringing the receipts to Jake’s bullshit. _I’m_ not setting any fires myself, I’m just helping him keep Jake from pulling the wool over the crowd’s eyes.” 

A snort from Dirk, an ill-intentioned half-smirk on his face. 

“You really think you survived last night all scot-free, huh? Karkat, Dave’s not running. He never even was; don’t you realize that he’s set you up to take the stand in his place, and you did it? Jake’s pissed at you, dude. It’s the clash of the century, and you’re at the forefront of it, my man. Dave’s rigging up traps in the background, you’re distracting Jake, and the crowd is going buckwild, throwing lettuce and tomatoes at the two of you. It’s a goddamn disgrace, and all I can do is scream into the intercom from across the room where nobody can hear me.” 

“That’s, that’s not it at all! Dave doesn’t want to throw Jake under the bus; they’re _friends!_ He just wants Jake to apologize to everybody and move on.” 

“Nah, man, they used to be friends, but now…” A click of the tongue, and Dirk leaned back onto his seat. “Dave wants Jake to disappear.” 

His heart hammered hard into his chest, eyes wide under a scowl. 

“No, that’s… That’s not…” A swallow, his noodles all scrambling together to make sense of everything that had happened yesterday. Yes, he had betrayed Jake, and, yes, he had lured him into the trap that was the party, but it had been for the greater good; for the healthy discussion that had followed, and its consequently good outcome, which, uh, which hadn’t really happened. His good intentions were what actually mattered, though, despite the fact that Dave had planned it all, and gotten him to become Jake’s enemy in the first place, and intended for the party to have a disastrous outcome at Jake’s expense, and, and… Oh, shit. Goddammit, Dirk was right again, wasn’t he? Fucking hell. _God!_ He felt his blood run cold. 

“Jake doesn’t actually hate me, does he?” 

“Honestly, bro, after your little stunt, he kind of does. I mean, it’s not going to last forever, so you don’t really have to worry about it, I guess.” 

“Yeah, but it’s happening now, and I’m very worried about it! I barely even know Jake, and I’m already his fucking enemy!” 

“Truly tragic, but if you listen to the earpiece, you’ll be fine. We can put these flames out together.” 

“Dammit!” 

His heart sped, his hairline was damp with sweat, and he just hoped that Jake wouldn’t come after him. God, he should’ve never fucking listened to Dave at all, getting him to try and break into Jake’s room, betray his trust, push him around. Of course Dave didn’t want to be in the spotlight, so there he was instead, sweating under the bright light in Dave’s place like a fucking idiot. Any doubts about that had surely just been put to rest, and he felt like a jackass. 

“Dave’s the evil twin, isn’t he?” 

A grin from Dirk, and he didn’t think that he had ever seen this guy smile before. 

“Nah, he’s just trying to protect us. He thinks Jake’s dangerous, so he’s acting accordingly. I’m just sorry you got thrown under the bus to make that happen.” 

“Yeah… Me too.” 

“Hey, listen; I got an appointment in a few minutes, so I can’t really hang out for much longer. Thanks for covering for Dave while he gets some, though; you’re a real bro.” 

His heart squeezed and his jaw set, hands closed into fists; yeah, a real one for sure. 

“As fucking always, I guess.” 

A scoff from Dirk, and the two of them hopped off of their respective seats. The day that Dave decided to make him stop feeling like a clown would be a miraculous one. Right now, he kind of wanted to push Dave into oncoming traffic, but also hide in his room for seventy-two hours. Dirk took him across the next two rooms to the front door, and pulled it open for him, only to reveal Jake right the fuck there, on his welcome mat, with a hand up in midair, the three of them frozen in place, heart beating out of his chest. If he weren’t so terrified right now, he would’ve legitimately screamed, because that was fucking insane. What the fuck was Jake doing here? Green eyes glanced from Dirk over to him and sharpened, hard under a scowl, and his blood went cold, and his pressure dropped, and he was about to pass the fuck out. 

“You’re early.” Dirk blurted out, and, wait, was this arranged? Was _Jake_ his appointment? Oh, fuck. 

“What is _he_ doing here?” Indignant, spoken to Dirk as if he were nothing but a vermin; a stain on Dirk’s carpet, and his heart hammered in his chest, and his entire body shuddered. 

“Don’t worry about that.” Dirk talked fast, pushing Jake out of the way to make some room at the door and go through it. Karkat took that as an opportunity to leave, too, and slipped past right after Dirk, joining the two out on the porch. “Karkat, I need you to not tell Dave about this. I’m serious.” 

Dirk’s voice was a mere echo in his mind, eyes focused onto the pair of greens that currently burned him alive. He needed to run; every single one of his instincts screamed at him to run, and his legs moved, and his heart raced, and he swiftly left the porch, crossing the front yard on fast feet. 

“Karkat, don’t fucking tell him!” Practically shouted after him, as he quickly picked up speed and literally ran off. 

Holy shit. God, how was he going to live across the hallway from Jake now? The guy wanted him fucking dead, and, taking into account the fact that Jake had done something _horrible_ in the past, horrible enough to warrant everybody else doing the most to avoid him years and years later, he was a little too afraid to find out for himself just how dangerous, exactly, Jake could be. Even Dirk must’ve been afraid to play with fire, too, if last Saturday was any indication of that, but Karkat wasn’t like him; he _didn’t_ chase danger, he _didn’t_ poke the bear. The thrill of it just wasn’t worth it, especially because he didn’t know just what Jake was capable of, even though he knew it wasn’t anything good. Running out of breath, he stopped at a bus stop way down the road, blocks and blocks away from Dirk’s place, where he could breathe, and pant, and wheeze. Jake was going to fucking kill him, wasn’t he? His hands shook, his ears rang, his heart hammered his ribs into smithereens, and, no; no, Dirk wouldn’t let him. There was no way Dirk would let him, was there? Jake was his best friend. Oh, God, Jake was his best friend. What was he capable of? 

Inside the bus, sitting next to a window, he took his phone out and held it in front of himself, staring hard at the black screen, but not really seeing it. What was Jake capable of? What had he done in the past? What had he done to _Dirk,_ and why did Dirk forgive him? _Did_ Dirk forgive him? He pulled up Dave’s number, and his hands trembled; was Jake dangerous? Was Jake actually dangerous? Oh, God, why had Dave thrown him under the bus? His heart squeezed, his vision blurred, and he put his phone back down, pressed it to his lap, hands squeezing it hard. Dave didn’t actually care. He didn’t _actually_ care. If he did, he would’ve faced Jake himself, not make him do it, the puppet on strings. Goddammit, he should’ve known. He should’ve _fucking_ known. Hopping off the bus, he stuffed his phone in his jacket pocket, wishing he had somebody to call; wishing that the only people who had answers weren’t fucking cryptic about it. 

In his room, he slipped under the blankets and stayed there, silent, feeling his eyes squeeze and his chest move, uneven and ragged with his breathing, throat closed hard under a knot, choking him where he lay. He muffled a sob into the mattress, face warm, chest constricted hard, as if the weight of this entire building were pushing him onto his own bed, and it hurt; God, his throat burned, his jaw set, his lips quivered, and he could barely fucking breathe. Why was Dave like that? He hadn’t done anything to him. This whole time, he had been nothing if not fully supportive, and kind, and nice, and good, and, and; a whimper escaped his throat, making him shiver. Maybe that was the problem. Dave could do whatever he wanted, and he let him; he never denied him anything. He let Dave throw him under the bus and gloated about it, because it had gotten him closer to Dave, and wasn’t that the entire point of it? Wasn’t that why he had even started any of this in the first place, to be with Dave no matter what? Well, it had worked. It _continued_ to work; Dave trusted him, and would come over later tonight, for whatever he wanted. Again, and always, for anything he could ever want, and if Dave didn’t _actually_ care, and if Dave didn’t _actually_ like him, did it even matter? If it got Dave to touch him, and kiss him, and share secrets with him, did it _actually_ matter? He got what he had wished for. 

Sure, Dave liked Terezi, and cared enough to be with her through a painful breakup, and would probably end up being her matesprit at some point, too, devoting himself to her, actually and entirely, to the one person who made his heart beat and his blood race and his cock get hard, and he’d be so loving, and present, and _there,_ that Terezi wouldn’t need anybody else. He would love her, and take her hand in public; and he would hate her, and push her to be the best version of herself that she could be, and he’d announce their relationship to the entire campus, and Karkat would watch from the sidelines, cheering for him whenever their eyes met, high-fiving him at every good bit of news that he had to tell, and coddling him after every fight, kissing him better, letting him have the bed. He’d smile, and his heart would break, and his chest would burn, but Dave would be happy, and looking at him, and smiling at him, and it’d be enough. It’d have to be enough. 

Wrapped up in thick blankets, he shut his eyes and pictured a castle, tall, made up of big, gray stones, with a moat around it and a bridge across it, to the woods beyond the Kingdom. Soldiers stood on both sides of it, hands on their hilts, bowing as their leader arrived, up on a horse, silver armor shining in the moonlight. Karkat stood in front of the bridge, silent, watching the Knight approach slowly, his horse walking with the insouciance of a human being. Dave watched him for a second, red eyes bright in the night, a half-smile on his face that made his heart skip. He stretched out a hand for Karkat to take, offering him a ride, a secret meeting in the forest, their sacred time together. He took it, and climbed up on the horse, even though he knew that the Knight would be back for the Princess in the morning. 

The sheets rustled, moved, and a voice called out for him, distant, but that still reached him somehow, pulling him back, making him breathe in deep. He didn’t realize to have fallen asleep here, and stirred under the blankets, pulling them away from his face only to have a hand fall on his head next, heavy, brushing his hair back. He swatted it away with his pulse running cold and leaned on an elbow to glance over the blankets, pushing himself up to see Dave laying on the bed beside him, aviators off, a small smile on his face. His heart promptly pounded, a breath caught in his throat, eyes wide; holy fucking shit, that got him. It got him, but it also lit a fire in his stomach and burned his face off, heart beating out of his chest, because Dave Strider was _in his bed,_ and the moonlight made his skin glow, and the darkness made his eyes shine through it, and apples surrounded him, cinnamon filled his lungs. Even though Dave had probably just spent the entire day with Terezi, he didn’t smell of her. She wasn’t on his skin. 

“Hey, sleepy head. What are you doing in bed? It’s not even nine.” 

Oh my god, was it that late already? Shit, that had really been the definition of a depression nap, huh. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, dude; weren’t you coming, like, three hours ago? What the fuck happened?” 

His snappy response dropped the smile from Dave’s face and had him turning to lie on his back next, eyes up at the ceiling, completely dull. Fuck. 

“Yeah, I was. I meant to, but I just, I didn’t, I didn’t know what to do. There’s so much going on, dude; I wish I could just chill. Just, not be in the middle of it, like, maybe I want to watch the mosh pit from a safe distance, you know?” 

“Well, if you wanted that, why did you rent the venue and set the gig?” 

A glance, Dave turning his head to look at him, a slight scowl on his forehead. 

“I didn’t. This is somebody else’s event, I’m just in it.” 

“Shouldn’t have bought a ticket, then.” 

Red eyes glanced back at the ceiling, lips pursing. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

A swallow, thick in his throat, and his face burned, and his heart raced, but he had to ask it; he _had_ to know. He, too, willingly bought tickets to concerts that he didn’t want to watch. 

“How’s Terezi?” Voice low, even, as emotionless as he could make it. The name felt like poison in his mouth. 

“She’s fucked up. There’s a lot happening. I don’t understand black romance, but she said it was a form of courtship, Vriska leaving. I don’t know; it doesn’t sound right.” 

Huh. 

“Courtship? They must be at an impasse, then, if Vriska left to make a point. It means they’ll get back together. Or, well, there’s a _chance,_ I mean; they’re negotiating.” 

Dave shook his head. 

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense. If they want to reach an agreement, why don’t they just talk about it?” 

“Clearly, they have, but that probably didn’t work. This is a last resort, I think. It’s what I would’ve done, too.” 

Red eyes found his face under a scowl, staring hard at him, cutting through him like lightning, and the attention, Dave’s eyes on him; God, it felt good. It was his turn to have Dave now, and his skin shivered from it. 

“What do you mean? Why would you do that?” 

“Well, they’re in a kismesissitude, Dave; they’re trying to make each other grow. I don’t know what’s really going on, but my guess is, if they’re in a healthy relationship, then this is just part of it. Maybe Terezi doesn’t see how she could improve herself yet, and she needs a little time, and, truth is, Vriska doesn’t have to keep wasting her energy on someone that doesn’t want help.” 

“Yeah, she does, actually. They’re _together,_ dude; that’s what a relationship is, just being there for each other through and through. Without her, Terezi has to figure all this shit out for herself. Like, on the real, Vriska’s being a fucking bitch right now.” 

“No, listen; that’s what a matespritship is. That’s redrom, Dave; being there and comforting each other. What they have isn’t that.” 

“Why would you want someone that leaves? Why even be with someone who’s not there for you? I don’t fucking get it. Would you want that?” 

A blink, eyebrows up. 

“Are you legit asking me?”

“Yeah, you’re a troll. You’re into this stuff, so tell me why. Why would you want someone who only points out your defects and pisses you off? That’s, like, the opposite of a relationship. I don’t understand why Vriska’s so important to her.” 

Oh. Right, that was his point. 

“Dave, blackrom is a relationship formed on personal growth. They’re there to constantly push each other. It’s actually very serious.” 

“Sounds fucked up to me. Vriska’s not helping anybody by isolating herself. Terezi was fucked up about it, dude. I mean, ugly crying and breaking shit. She called Vriska four times. How’s that growth?” 

Huh. 

“Do you… Are you always with Terezi when this kind of stuff happens? When they fight, and she’s upset?” 

“I guess. I mean, we’re close. We’re friends, and if you’re about to make a point, and say I’m acting like her fucking boyfriend or something, yeah, I know; _that’s_ what Vriska’s supposed to do. I honestly don’t know what the fuck I’m doing comforting Terezi right now; it’s fucking ridiculous.” 

“No, I wasn’t gonna say that, and, no, that’s not Vriska’s business. What they have isn’t a loving relationship, but what she has with _you_ is. That’s redrom, Dave; comforting her when she’s upset, calming her down, and being there for her, yeah. Yeah, that’s a relationship.” 

“That’s _friendship,_ Karkat. The same way I was there for her earlier, you’re here for me now; next you’re gonna say we’re all in some sort of fucked up three-way relationship.” 

Well, that… In truth, he wasn’t so wrong about that, but it was besides the point. 

“Have you ever heard of moirallegiance, dude? Because that’s pretty much what you’re doing with her right now.” 

Red eyes promptly widened at that, and he could practically count the speckles of Dave’s irises, muted crimson in the dark. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Is that one of the quadrants?” 

“Yeah, it’s the, uh, best friend one, I guess. It’s not exactly that, but that’s the best way I can get you to understand it. You lift each other up, you keep each other calm, and you’re always there for one another. That’s what you’re doing, dude. You’ve been in a relationship with her this entire time and you didn’t even know.” 

“No, that’s not true; she doesn’t do the same back to me. It’s not a relationship. It’s not a troll relationship; we’re friends, like humans are friends. Sometimes we hang out, and sometimes we don’t. That’s it.” 

A shrug, and he laid on his back, as well, staring up at the ceiling, the moving patterns there; light streaks through the blinds, pale shadows overlapping. 

“Call it whatever you want; it won’t change anything.” 

Sheets rustled, and Dave moved to lean on his elbow, towering over Karkat to cover up the ceiling with his face, thin strands of blonde hair falling to hang between them, silver in the moonlight. 

“We’re not dating. I’ve never even touched her.” 

A bounce of the brows, a skip of the heart; really? _Never?_ The knowledge swept over him like a warm summer wave, washing the heat away, lifting a ton of weight from his shoulders; like the end of a stressful week, like the first flower to bloom in the spring. He breathed in deeply, and felt that his chest didn’t hurt, and his heart didn’t break; there was warmth, and there was calm, and there were butterflies. There had been nothing romantic between those two. 

“Karkat, I don’t want to be in a weird troll relationship. I don’t want to be in a quadrant; I don’t even know how they work. I just want to talk to her sometimes, and be her friend like a regular person. I don’t even know what I’m doing, dude. Do you think that’s what that is? Does she think the same as you do?” 

“I don’t know, Dave; I’m just guessing. If you say you’re not together, then you’re right; I have no moral ground to prove otherwise. I mean, a relationship takes two people agreeing to be in one, and if you’ve never even talked about it, then...” 

“Well, I mean, we have, but, I just; I don’t want one. Not like that.” 

Holy shit, really? _Dave_ was the one to reject Pyrope? To be honest, that probably shouldn’t have been such a surprise, but, right now, it rocked his entire world. God, maybe Dirk was right, and he didn’t have to worry about Terezi at all; maybe he really did have an advantage over her. Maybe the game _wasn’t_ in her favor, after all. Shit. On a side note, when had Dirk _not_ been right so far? 

“Huh. Then, you don’t have to. You literally don’t have to do anything, dude; you could chill here all week and only check up on Terezi during class, if you wanted. In our standards, that wouldn’t make you a bad friend at all. Actually, that would just about make you a regular friend. Intimacy and closeness and caring are usually reserved for something else.” 

Dave watched him as he spoke, silent, with a slight scowl on his face and red eyes that refused to leave his own, bouncing from one to the other, careful, as if studying him, reading him. His voice faded, but Dave didn’t immediately respond, allowing for a short silence to fall between them, blonde hair shining, nearly brushing him on the nose. One deep breath filled his lungs with the sweet scent of a hundred apples, and, if he closed his eyes right now, he’d picture a whole field of them. 

“What is this to you?” Asked quietly, Dave’s voice a whisper that made his heart punch him in the throat and his face burn. 

Shit. 

“Friendship.” He answered tentatively, voice small, cheeks pumping; the obvious answer. The expected answer. His chest quivered, unable to breathe in deeper, but unable to exhale, either, and, for the first time in his life, it occurred to him, through the slippery noodles in his brain, that this wasn’t friendship at all. It hadn’t been for a good while now, not after everything, not this far in, and whether or not Dave saw that, too, he didn’t know. He had absolutely no idea. 

Dave squinted, not sold on his shitty lie, and his entire body ran cold. 

“No, that’s not what you just said. Friends don’t do this stuff in your culture.” 

No, they didn’t. Oh, god, no, they didn’t, and his heart beat so fast, and so strongly, that he could barely even breathe, fingertips numb, a scream bouncing around in his head. He could feel just how wide his eyes were on his own face, heart lodged deep in his throat, blocking all airway, keeping him mute. It was fine, though, he just, he had to say something right now; an excuse, an explanation, a _reason_ for being with Dave all the time, and plotting against his family, and kissing his face in the living room, and laying under him in bed, and spooning in his bedroom, and dreaming of him every single night, and wanting to touch his body, and feel his face, and, and, it was fine. It was standard. It wasn’t, it _really_ wasn’t, but they weren’t the same. They were brought up differently, and maybe he could use that card, spin it, say what Dave so obviously wanted to hear. Oh, god. 

“No, maybe not, but this is normal in _your_ culture, Dave. I’m not so self-involved that I think you’re acting on par with my culture all the time, man. I mean, yeah, where I come from, we don’t do this kind of stuff, but the same isn’t true to you, and I’m not fucking delirious, dude. I _know_ that. You and I are chill, bro.” Spoken as his heart punched him breathless, but still his voice held, and didn’t waver, and made him sound a lot more confident than he really was. 

As expected, Dave’s shoulders relaxed, and an exhale left his lungs. Karkat found himself doing the exact same thing in response, like a mirror. 

“God, dude, I wish everyone was as cool as you are. You get it, man, you just do, and, honestly, I think you’re the only one who does.” 

Hearing that felt like dodging the wrath of God. 

“Unfortunately, it seems you’ll be stuck with me for a while until everybody else catches up.” 

A scoff from Dave, through his trademark half-smile, and he was so fucking handsome that Karkat’s heart punched clean through his ribs to run away with him. 

“Nah, it’s fine; everybody else doesn’t matter. I have _you,_ and that’s enough.” 

Okay, operation reversed; his heart was back and it fucking flatlined, because what the fuck, what the fucking fuck? He was about to have a meltdown. What the _fuck_ did that mean in a _friendship_ way, huh? There was no fucking explanation for this. There was _none,_ and he wanted to fucking scream. He wanted to take Dave’s shoulders and shake him hard and shout, _what the_ fuck _do you mean?,_ because this wasn’t right. Everything right now, just lounging on his bed with Dave leaning above him, so fucking close, reassuring him that he was the only, erm, _friend_ that he needed, that the rest of the world didn’t matter; it just, it didn’t add up. This didn’t add up. Straight men didn’t _do this,_ and, oh my god, Dirk was right. Dirk was fucking right. 

“That’s cute, Dave. It almost sounds like you’re in love with me or something.” 

Another scoff, more dramatic now, red eyes glancing off for a second. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“I mean, last night was fun. It was…” A purposefully incomplete thought, because they didn’t talk about that, they never had, and it widened Dave’s eyes, it raised his eyebrows, it wrote shock all over him, but was it out of fear or interest? Maybe he could find out. In an attempt at that, he shrugged loosely, carelessly, indicating abandonment of topic, and if Dave choked him where he lay, he would honestly understand; straight men were fragile. 

Except Dave wasn’t straight at all. A moment of silence passed, and red eyes softened, dropped down to his lips, just like they had done at Acid Mushroom, just like they had probably done last night; right now, he couldn’t tell, couldn’t remember, not with his heart beating so hard, not with his pulse rushing so loud, but there was interest, and he was right. Dirk was right; this had never really been friendship. 

“It was what?” Low, smooth, sending shivers down his spine, along his legs, to his inner thighs. He thought of last night, of Dave on his skin, on his face, pushing him back, and his body burst into flames, lungs breathing in deep. Maybe Dave could do all of that again. 

“It was pretty fucking hot.” Whispered between them despite the intense heat on his cheeks and how hard his heart hammered into his ribs, eyes down to study Dave’s face, the setting of his jaw, the quiver of his lips, as if in a smirk that never really formed, and he knew that he had said the right thing. 

Hesitation from Dave, in the way that he held himself, an inch away from Karkat’s face, eyes locked on his mouth, as if entranced, half-lidded and partly clouded over, _burning_ in a way that he didn’t think he had ever seen before, but that set his skin on fire and had his heart going for the throat, impatient. There was an edge to him that wanted to jump out, grab Dave’s shirt, and pull him down for a rerun, but he couldn’t; his hands held onto his own shirt instead, curling into fists and crumpling it up to stay put. The movement caught Dave’s attention, of course, glancing promptly down Karkat’s body to his stomach, where his shirt rode up, and flashed some skin to the moonlight, just a little bit, right above the waistband of his pants. It was kind of mortifying to have Dave see that, but, also, on the other hand, it made his thighs tingle, skin burning. In an impulse, he pulled it up a little more, up to where he was pretty sure his belly button would’ve been, and a hand found his stomach, warm, hot; Dave’s palm flat on his skin, pushing down a bit, making him shiver and his legs twitch, heart beating out of his mouth, lungs barely breathing. Goddammit, he had never been so fucking turned on before, and nothing was even happening. Dave glanced back up, red eyes trained on his face as the hand on his stomach moved, ran up his body, up his chest and neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake, almost having him arch off the mattress. Fingers grabbed his jaw, angled his face down a bit, and Dave leaned over, close, the stray hair from his bangs laying on Karkat’s temple. 

“Do you want this?” Whispered so low that it almost didn’t exist, nose brushing the side of Karkat’s own, Dave’s breathing hot on his skin. He was about to pass out. 

“Yeah.” Breathy, and small, as his eyes closed, and his body caught on fire. 

Dave’s forehead found his temple, nose touching his cheek, lips brushing his own. 

“You’re my best fucking friend.” Muttered just before their faces met and fire consumed him entirely. 

The feeling of Dave’s cock pressed up against his stomach was surreal, grinding down on him hard, a hand on his hips to hold him down, his thighs quickly finding the curve of Dave’s waist and lodging themselves in there, squeezing him between them as a natural response. Mouth on his own, tongue down his throat, and Dave pushed against the low of his stomach, the fabric of his pants rough on the skin, sounds muffled on Dave’s lips. Dave pushed, and thrusted, and he could barely fucking breathe, hands grabbing the back of Dave’s shirt, pulling it up toughtlessly. A hand on his stomach, flat on his skin, fingers pointed down, making him shiver, thighs quivering, and he wanted them in, down, _in;_ Dave granted his wish without a word, biting his lips and diving under the waistband of his sweatpants with confidence and ease, into his underwear and over his nook. He squirmed, grabbing onto the flesh of Dave’s back as fingers pressed against his skin and rubbed it, promptly covered in genetic fluid, pressing into his folds and drawing the bulge out, sending shivers up his body, a whine in the back of his throat. Fingers pressed and rubbed; a pressure to his nook that he had never felt before, pushing and searching only for a moment, because Dave was good, and this wasn’t rocket science; he found the entrance, and pushed three fingers right inside. 

Karkat broke the kiss to gasp, eyes shut closed as Dave pushed in deep, scissoring him, pushing on his walls, palm pressed firmly to the base of his bulge, fingers fucking him breathless. It was unreal; his hands dug into Dave’s back, his thighs trembled, his back arched, and he could feel genetic fluid run down his skin, pooling at the bottom of his underwear. He bit his lip, eyes screwed shut, and had kisses pressed down his neck, burning his face alive, fingers pushing in deep and stretching him wide. A bite on his neck, round teeth on his skin, and the fingers were gone; Dave’s hand was out of his pants. His lungs filled up and his eyes opened, quick, wide, _why?,_ but Dave was moving up to stand on both knees, and his hands were both already back on Karkat’s body, as if addicted, pressed to his stomach, running up his chest. He took the cue and pulled his shirt off, threw it aside, suddenly very fucking shameless, because Dave was doing the same, and, holy shit, God; he looked good. Goddammit, he looked good. Hands promptly found the waistband of his pants and assisted him on pulling them off, discarding them over the edge of the bed, red eyes roaming over him like a lion to a feast; shivers up his back, heart beating out of his chest, and the attention _burned._  

With Dave’s pants halfway down his thighs, and with how eager Dave was to see this through, he didn’t have a lot of time to stare him down, but his skin glowed silver in the moonlight, and his cock put a skip to Karkat’s heart, because he had thought about it for so fucking long; imagining it, trying to feel it, that actually seeing it put everything into perspective. This was actually happening, and his blood ran cold, and his breathing hitched, but when Dave leaned back down, his legs opened far and wide and let him in. 

A hand between them guided Dave down, pressing the head of his cock along the nook, against the folds, and Karkat burned, eyes closed, face pressed against the side of Dave’s own. One thrust in, a surreptitious gasp, nails digging into Dave’s skin, and their hips met, bottoming out, a hand on his thigh to hold him close; _stars._ Thick, stretching him out, Dave pushed in, setting his stomach on fire, thighs tingling and quivering and squeezing hard around Dave’s waist, moving along with him. In his ear, Dave groaned, sending shivers down his spine, all across his body; making his hands grab Dave’s skin and his bulge twist around itself, sandwiched between the two of them. A thrust, two, and Dave picked up a rhythm, filling him up, pushing in deep, heart racing, head back. It was _insane;_ it was like nothing he had ever experienced before, because Dave reached in deep, and pushed on his walls, and fucked him so good that he had to bite his lip to save face in the dark, Dave groaning in his ear, kissing his neck. He burned, holding Dave close, breathing in roses and drowning in cinnamon, hoping it’d stick to him like sweat, hoping Dave would mark him in some way, for later, to remember. Dave pushed in hard, staggering him against the mattress, sinking him into it, and his thighs trembled, blood running hot; one deeper thrust, and his entire body was struck by lightning. Mysterious, but desired, and he told Dave that that was it, whispered into his ear, lips on the side of his face, and had Dave aim for that, making his eyes shut and his back arch up; lightning traveling through his veins, heart drumming against his chest like thunder. Dave kissed him, and bit him, and fucked him until his body shuddered, his thighs squeezed tight, and the world went white; a moan from the back of the throat, nails deep into the flesh of Dave’s back, nook pulsing hard. He whimpered, and closed around Dave, and felt him go still, shivering under his palms, groaning against his neck. His heart raced, his lungs filled up, and Dave pushed in as deep as he could go, keeping himself there, shuddering. One deep exhale, and Dave pulled out. 

He let Dave use the shower and just kind of sat there for a while, breathing, staring at the bathroom door, alone in the darkness, because holy shit. Holy shit. His pulse slowly came down, heart beating calmer now, even though his skin still pulsed where Dave had touched him, and his face still burned overall, cheeks pumping hot, melting the skin there. That had really just fucking happened, and he wasn’t going to freak out about it, because Dave wasn’t freaking out about it, except he might have been, hidden in the bathroom, but whatever; it wasn’t a big deal, even if it meant absolutely everything to him, even if it was everything he had ever wanted, even if it confirmed that Terezi was the opposite of a problem, because he had everything that she didn’t have, and she was basically nothing. He had Dave’s cologne on his skin, and the ghost of Dave’s hands on his body, and Dave in his shower, so, in the end, there was only one winner, and he was done losing. 

By the time Dave left the shower, the bed had been made, he had redressed, and the overhead light was on. Dave smelled of his shampoo, and his soap, and had his towel wrapped around his hips, and his heart fluttered, and his chest filled up, because that, all of that, was absolutely right. Everything about it was just right, and he could get used to it; he could have Dave over any fucking time. Dave took his clothes from the bed, dropped the towel, and had Karkat looking away out of instinct, as if they hadn’t just fucked a minute ago, as if he hadn’t _just_ seen Dave naked, but this felt different, somehow. Clearly, Dave didn’t care to get dressed right in front of him, but he still didn’t look, keeping his eyes out the window instead, at the passing cars and the grouped up people that walked together, smoked together, laughed together. He didn’t recognize any of them. 

“I’m not staying.” Dave announced from behind him, making him turn back around to see Dave fix his shirt on his shoulders, aviators up on his head. 

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Spoken lightly, amicably, because he really, honestly didn’t mind that; his chest was filled with peace, and his body was warm with attention. Terezi would never be on the same level as him. 

A tug on Dave’s lips, a half-smile that never formed, and Dave hesitated where he stood, between Karkat and the door, red eyes bouncing around his face, probably trying to read him. Was Dave going to kiss him goodbye? One brow arched up, and he waited, curious but patient, with the ghost of a smile on his own face. He didn’t think that he had ever been this friendly before, not emotionally, not spiritually, but it was a nice change, even if bizarre. Absently, he wondered just how long that feeling would last, and ultimately watched Dave step backwards toward the door before turning to leave. That was just as fine, and brought back their parting last night; Dave dropping him off, him grateful for the ride, and the kiss that hadn’t happened either. It really just wasn’t Dave’s style; they were only friends, after all. 

 _Best_ friends. 


	14. Splinters and shards

In retrospect, the surprise intervention was something that he should’ve seen coming. Its signs had been everywhere; the skeletons had fallen out of the closet, yet Dave hadn’t given him much of a hard time about it, because the conversation in the car had been tame compared to what he rightfully deserved, and hadn’t even addressed the entire spectrum of his deception, his failure, in the first place. Resuming therapy, medication, Jake English; it had all been swept under the rug on Sunday afternoon to pave way for the party, which, thinking back, had been a bizarre behavior from Dave, who cared far too much about everything. He should’ve suspected shenanigans from the very beginning, but with his brother pouring him shots and his cousins avoiding any heated topics of conversation, he had found himself far too comfortable to openly doubt them and start anything himself. Deep inside, he had just kind of wanted for the party to be a nice time, even if his gut hadn’t trusted it, even if he knew it wouldn’t be; it couldn’t be. A suspiciously late guest arrived, and, before Karkat had even opened the door, he already knew who it was; there was nobody else missing. 

All in all, it had been a shit-show, of course; Jake had been caught by surprise as much as he had, and had quickly found himself pushed off the edge of the cliff, with the entire family waiting for him at the bottom of it, daggers in hand, just in case. His cousins, hurt and upset that Jake had walked out so sternly in the past; his brother, fuming because Jake had lied to him, and, in his head, done a lot worse than that, too; and John, sad to have lost a good friend a long time ago. They all took turns sandbagging Jake with their hearts on their sleeves, and the truth was so close to the open air, on the tip of the tongue, one breath away, that Dirk’s heart raced, beating out of his chest, loud in his ears, stuck halfway up his throat, unable to speak, unable to breathe. Jake didn’t know why they were so upset with him, not really; why they bled so profusely, and hurt so deeply, and screamed so loud, because, well, he hadn’t been there then. When Dave had closed a hand around his throat to stop the bleeding and gotten their father to rush him to the hospital, single-handedly saving his life, Jake had been in college, and the others had been asleep. Horrible static, loud, deafening, for days and days and days, and by the time he had come out, the damage had already been done; Jake was no longer a traitor, but a damn near murderer. Could he really have blamed Dave for hating Jake so much? He had no idea how he would’ve felt if he had been the one to find Dave coated in blood instead. So Jake was the enemy, and he was simply a victim of circumstance. 

In truth, no, he wasn’t.  _ He _ had taken the razor blade,  _ he _ had turned against himself, and if the thoughts in his head that had urged him to do it had been born from Jake’s actions, then that didn’t make a perpetrator and a victim; it made two partners in crime. Dave didn’t see it that way, though, and it was his version of the events that had reached everybody else while Dirk swam through the dark and the static, bringing together a consensus in the family, one very unfavorable to Jake, who was far enough away to never feel its shockwaves. (Until his return.) So they had a bad guy, and blamed this whole tragedy on him, showering Dirk in love, care, and affection after the hospital, which was different, and nice, and completely changed how the entire world felt around him. His brother made him breakfast, and lunch, and dinner; his cousins came over often and complimented him on his clothes; his aunt took him shopping every week and his father started looking him in the face. They faked interest in  _ his _ interests; in the robots that he made, in the unfinished machines that sat around his room, in the ponies on his posters, in the shows that he watched. Dave brought a mattress to his room and slept there with him, spending hours upon hours listening to him talk about mechanics, robotics, and their intrinsic ethics throughout the night, catching three or four hours of sleep at a time, dropping college to stay home with him when they both knew that their father wouldn’t. Dave watched him dress his wounds, take his meds, have his meals, and took him to every appointment in the world, follow up after follow up, looking after him like nobody else ever had. It was nice, it was healing; it filled his chest and warmed his heart and made him not want to change Dave’s mind about Jake. At the time, he didn’t have a reason to. 

Tonight, he wouldn’t do that, either. It had been too long; the truth had not only been buried, but overgrown with grass and trees, and he wasn’t about to go digging his own grave now, not after everything, not when everybody cared so much. Jake was back, and the last three years of pampering were about to fall right over his head if he simply stood back and watched it happen. He had to do something; keep the temple sacred at any cost, because if his family turned on him now, if  _ Dave _ turned on him now, he had literally no idea what to even do next. Jake didn’t know, and he would continue not to know; the others hadn’t told, and they would continue not to tell, but how? If there wasn’t really anything to tell, maybe; if Jake already knew what they had to say. He wouldn’t know, but he’d give the impression that he did, and if Dirk managed to make him fool the others, then nothing would have to get truly unburied. In the kitchen, he poured himself some water and felt his heart come down, slowly. The intervention was over, and everybody was dissatisfied. Soon, Jake would follow him here, and he’d get to really start working. 

Jake was back in his life, and whether or not that was objectively good didn’t occur to him. He hadn’t made up his mind about it yet, or where they stood in regards to what Jake had said yesterday, but, right now, that wasn’t the main point. In fact, that was so infinitesimal in comparison, that every emotion in his chest had been overridden with panic, steadily rising, which took every fiber of his being to keep under control. Yes, he had majorly freaked out just yesterday over the mere prospect of Jake still giving a single fuck about him, but the game had changed, drastically so, and that wasn’t the pivot of his attention anymore. Right now, he needed to mitigate the situation, so his family still stood by him, but also didn’t attack Jake anymore. Sipping from his water, he felt the air shift with Jake’s presence, a dark shadow hanging by the doorframe, just within his peripheral vision. Jake didn’t come in, but lingered there for a second, watching Dirk drain the glass and put it down. One breath in, and it was showtime. 

“How are you feeling, Dirk?” Quiet and soft, Jake’s attempt at walking on eggshells with him, trying to gauge just how willing he was to have this conversation. At the moment, more than willing, so he turned to face Jake and let him know that. 

“I should be the one asking you that question, given just how hard you were sandbagged back there. How’s your head? Any bruises yet?” 

A scoff from Jake, obscured by the dark, thwarting him to tell if that had been out of amusement or scorn. A swift change of settings, his glasses responding normally even without his phone around, and he brightened the room a little bit, enough to see Jake’s face in the dark, a surreptitious zoom to frame the half-smile there and make his heart skip. Amusement, then; good. That was what he had aimed for. 

“Yeah, I… Christ, man, I feel like a bloody punching bag. I knew it’d be bad when I finally ran into them, but I didn’t quite know just how bad it was really going to get. Jesus…”  _ Jayzuhs,  _ almost whispered, as if holding himself back, swallowing something down. It was just beneath the surface there, a hardness to his voice, a sting to his tone, heavy and sharp, muffled and shushed and hidden under the carpet. Huh. “They’re so angry at me! I must’ve really thrown a spinner in the works when I left; I didn’t realize just how much that had affected them.” Half-swallowed down, hands into fists, and why was he covering up how he really felt about all of this? Why wasn’t he getting into what actually mattered? A slight scowl tugged onto Dirk’s forehead.

“To be honest here, Jake, that was kind of the worst thing you could’ve done to a bunch of people with abandonment issues.” 

“Shit…” A breath, and Jake glanced up at him, at his figure in the partial light, standing idly by the sink where silver poured in through the window and reflected off his glasses. “I’m sorry.” 

A nod in acknowledgement, but he was only half-listening, because the intervention had clearly affected Jake, and deeply, too, but there was something else on his mind that took precedence over it right now; what was it? What could ever have been more important than that? 

“I know you are. It’s fine.” 

“Is it, Dirk? I mean, look at you, mate; there’s a bloody splint on your arm!” 

Oh, right. God, of  _ course _ it was him; of course his bullshit took precedence over the intervention, because they hadn’t even discussed the accident yet, and Jake had  _ just _ found out about it in the worst possible way. It was so absurd to think that Jake might’ve given a single shit about that; that Jake cared about his idiocy, that talking about it hadn’t even really crossed his mind. A moment ago, he thought that Jake had only asked him about the accident to try and make the sandbagging stop for half a second there, but, well, apparently those had been legitimate questions. Alright, then; onward to finally getting this show on the road. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jake beat him to it. 

“Did you really crash on the way back?” Voice low, as if trying to keep this a secret from the darkness, asked while Jake took a tentative step into the kitchen. Dirk let him. 

“Yeah, I ran into a fencepost and did a triple jump, but couldn’t stick to landing. Actually, I might’ve stuck to landing far too well, from what I hear. This splint is a minor dogear in the books of success. Five points just from that.” 

A look from Jake, his curious contemplation on whether to take this seriously or not, if he was going to take Dirk’s cue to make a joke about it or berate him for it. 

“Sure, five  _ style _ points, maybe, because that’s not how motocross works.” 

Nice choice; it almost brought a smile to his face, tugging at his lips. 

“I was wearing Diesel, so that’s at least another fifteen in the bag.” 

“I’m not sure that you've ever seen a race, Dirk.” 

“Must’ve been why the triple jump failed, then.” 

A half-smile on Jake’s face, shoulders down, and the hesitation from before; the fear of walking a little too heavy and breaking the eggshells was gone. Jake came closer, slowly, moving within the darkness to stand before him, but not quite close enough to be in the silver moonlight with him, an inch away from it. Having to glance up to meet with Jake’s eyes felt right. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Lower, quieter, more sincere than a second ago, and Dirk’s heart fluttered, and Dirk’s chest warmed up, and the air that he breathed was rich with vermouth and fresh with vetiver leaves. “I didn’t mean to scare you off, I--” 

“It’s fine, Jake.” Loud, curt, and, honestly, a lot more graceless than he had expected himself to be, cutting Jake short in a desperate attempt to keep from panicking right now, much less in front of him a second time around. No, no fucking way; he’d be dead before that ever happened. “That definitely wasn’t our greatest moment, but it also didn’t change anything, and if you hadn’t been tricked into coming here tonight, I would’ve had more time to really prepare something for you in regards to it; how to break the news the right way. A speech, maybe, or a long text; either way, you wouldn’t have found out about it like this. I would’ve told you, and I would’ve said that it wasn’t serious, that I’m fine, and that it’s not even worth our attention, which, by now, really isn’t, I mean, you weren’t the only one that just got tricked; this was a deliberate attack on the both of us. I had even less of an idea about it than you did.” Alright, so maybe that wasn’t all true, but, for the purpose of his point getting across, he’d stick to it. 

Black brows furrowed, a scowl on Jake’s face, and he took exactly what he was supposed to from all of that. 

“You weren’t in on it with the rest of them?” 

“Of course not, bro; we were  _ both _ targeted here. Do you really think I’d have involved the others if I wanted to talk to you myself? That would’ve completely contradicted going around them to see you yesterday. It would’ve gone against literally everything that we’ve ever done, man; the core principle of how we operate together. They were out of the loop, and thought that that’d be our first time seeing each other, a surprise at our expense, which actually turned into a surprise to them instead. It was a nasty trick, throwing you under the bus like that.” 

“Yeah, thanks for stepping in, by the way. Big help there, mate.” 

“What the fuck did you expect? What did you even want me to say? There was nothing that would’ve de-escalated the situation. I mean, Roxy was fucking livid.” 

“Everybody was livid, Dirk! Dave was practically fucking fuming, man.” A hand up to gesture wildly, a breath in Jake’s lungs, and he almost smiled, almost; a skip to his heart in response to it, because the chains had been broken, and Jake no longer held himself back. This was the unfiltered truth. “I can’t believe how incredibly angry they still are about something that happened so long ago! The whole reason why I hadn’t talked to them yet was because I wanted to do it at my own time, on my own terms, so they wouldn’t crucify me like they just did, but fuck me, I guess! Jesus Christ, mate; Jesus bloody H. Christ.” 

The rage in Jake’s voice, exploding and bursting and spilling everywhere was so cathartic to hear, so reassuring, that a breath left his lungs and dropped his shoulders with it. Deeply inside, his heart beat calmly. 

“Maybe seeing you again dug up some pretty old feelings about what happened. Yeah, they’re angry, but they haven’t been this livid in a long time, like your presence activated the sleeper anger inside.” A shrug. “It can’t last long.” 

“Alright, sure, maybe it won’t, but it still fucking sucks, Dirk. I know they’re upset, and what I did is truly worthy of retribution, but it still  _ fucking sucks, _ mate. It was a total sandbag, you were right about that, and the worst part of it all is that I don’t even have what to say in return, because they’re all in their own rights to do it! I can’t say they’re wrong, because they’re not, even if the claims are all a little off the mark, and they’re going a bit overboard with it; they’re entitled to it, and I truly despite it.” An exhale, and he could practically smell the smoke coming out of Jake’s lungs. Perfect. “I’m sorry for going off the rails on this, but I’m just so…! I’m, I’m rattled, Dirk. I’m truly quite rattled at the moment, and I apologize.” 

“Just as they’re entitled to their own feelings, so are you entitled to yours, dude. You don’t have to apologize for it.” 

“I understand that they’re upset, and that everything that they’ve got to say; every hurtful truth is well deserved, but don’t they realize that I care?” Jake barreled on, probably not even having heard him. “Do they know that? That I care about all of them, regardless of how much time has passed, or how we had last left things off; I still care, and that’s why I’ve spent so long coming up with the right way to get back in touch? I don’t think they do, mate; I honestly don’t, not with how Roxy walked out. They think I don’t give a fuck.” A breath, and Jake brought a hand up to run through his hair, eyes cast off at the bowels of the kitchen, a crease on his brow. The other hand rested atop the marble counter as he turned to lean his lower back on it, facing the darkness. “Perhaps what I did wasn’t right, but, then again, I don’t know what else I would’ve done. I don’t know what the right answer is. I mean, I wanted to get back in touch; I had every intention to do so, but how? I didn’t get to figure that out.” 

“There’s no right answer; whatever you did would’ve been reason for disappointment regardless of what it actually was, so don’t beat yourself up, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Hey.” A step forward, and he placed a hand over Jake’s, getting his attention, a slight turn of the head and a glance, eyes cast down at where they met. Fingertips brushed over Jake’s knuckles, palm warm on the back of his hand, pressing it to the counter. “I know you care, and they’ll see that, too, but they need some time. We’re not all on the same page here; we haven’t all been given the same treatment.” 

“Well, is that really much of a surprise by now, Dirk? It’s kind of always been you and me, and then us and them. They shouldn’t be so outraged that I went for you first.” 

His heart punched him in the throat, heavy against his ribs, hard enough to taste blood. The hand over Jake’s pressed it against the counter, a lump behind his tongue, words that refused to slip through his teeth, because that hadn’t been a thing in years, and, after this long, he wasn’t even sure that there had ever been a splinter in the group at all. Yes, they had both gone behind the others’ backs, met up in secret, and traded trasons, but never in a conspiratorial way. Never to do them any harm, or kill their friendship, or sever it into independence. Sure, he had thought about it; what would’ve been like to be able to be together in school, in front of everybody else, and proudly showcase their involvement, which had ended up happening, and severed the first tie between them; the beginning of the end, but he had never meant to hurt the others by it. In fact, when he had pressured Jake to do it, his brother had been the furthest thing in his mind. Now, after everything, Jake hitting him up in secret was both bizarre, and exactly what Dirk should’ve expected; the others were only surprised by it due to the severity of what had ensued shortly after Jake’s absence. 

“They’re  _ upset _ that you did it, and are mistaking our interaction for favoritism, when, in reality, you’ve actually reached out to everybody, and I’m the only one who came through. They don’t see consequence as it is, and, coupled with their inclination to hate you, are more than willing to take this to injury. You know how self-involved they are, Jake; they built a self-fulfilling prophecy that would always frame you as the bad guy and the rest of them as victims, and are just playing their part, happy to have something to hate you for. You fell for the trap, and I couldn’t even warn you about it. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” A shake of the head, a shallow breath. “We would’ve never suspected Karkat. Jesus, I knew that he had been in touch with all of you, but he’s not in many of the pictures online, and people around campus aren’t super sure just how close he is to the group, so I didn’t really expect him to be a fucking traitor, playing me the way he did.” An exasperated scoff, and what was Jake talking about? As far as he knew, Karkat hadn’t been involved; this whole thing screamed of Dave and Roxy alone. 

“What do you mean? What did he do?” 

“He was the one who set me up, the tiny viper! For someone so small, he sure can fit a lot of treachery in that little body. God, I can’t believe I trusted him. I  _ believed _ him and all of his unrequited love bullshit!” A groan, and the hand underneath his own left the counter to curl into a fist. Huh. 

“Really.” Absent, leaving his lips almost as an afterthought. “Unrequited love?” 

“Yes, he had a whole sob story about it, some guy that didn’t like him back, and what should he do? Lying snake, playing the victim to get my sympathy.” Jake damn near spat out of disgust. 

On his end, a scoff, and he almost fucking laughed. 

“Genius move, lying so close to the truth. You know, he’s a lot closer to Dave than you think. Man, I wouldn’t be surprised if they came up with the trap by themselves.” 

“Yeah, it sounds like Dave alright. I guess he’s got an accomplice now. Fuck.” Jake practically whispered the last part, a hand up to cover his mouth for a moment, face turned away from the moonlight. A quick scan of his vitals revealed rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing, clear signs of stress, jaw set, shoulders tense. “God, they really hate me, don’t they?” Small, aimed at the darkness, damn near inaudible. Jake sounded terrified, and Dirk’s heart skipped, blood running cold. A hand lifted to brush Jake on the arm, where his shirt sleeve ended and his skin began, warm on the fingers. 

“Hey, it’ll be fine. Even if you’re right about that, it’s not going to last very long. They’ll come back around eventually.” That was probably very untrue, but it was the right thing to say right now, to calm Jake down, to bring him back. Seeing him like this closed a knot around Dirk’s throat and choked him alive. 

In silence, a turn of the head, Jake glancing down at his own arm, where fingers brushed his skin, and a hand slowly closed around his bicep, pulling him back, anchoring him here, in the kitchen, in the moment. Green eyes met with sharp, angular glasses like pale prehnites in the dark, reflecting off the moonlight that showered Dirk in light, and his heart skipped, pulse jumping, Jake’s arm like fire under his palm. Vetiver leaves filled his lungs, enveloped his heart, and the way Jake watched him right now, eyes low, eyebrows set, had the alcohol in his blood course fast through his veins, heart beating out of his chest, because he knew this look well, memorized in the back of his head ever since he had first seen it, at thirteen, in the empty hallway of his father’s house. 

Talk and laughter had echoed down the hallway then, drifting distant and muffled through the open living room door, where the light was on, and cast a long strand of yellow across the floor, up the wall; a soft glow on Jake’s face from it, green eyes bright. He hadn’t been invited to the party, of course; he never was. The others were older and had their own friends, people from their high school who’d never talk to him, too young to hang out with them yet, too young to understand anything they said, even if their Chemistry jokes were incredibly basic (and more often than not completely incorrect), even if their stories weren’t hard to follow, even if he knew half of the people that they talked about from exposure to their conversations. Not real exposure, because he wasn’t allowed in Dave’s room, and resorted to pacing up and down the hallway instead, listening to the laughter that bled through the door, the music that they played, and the secrets that they shared. He was one of them, but he wasn’t. Dave’s friends were too cool to talk to him, and usually older, too, and it hurt, but he told himself that he didn’t care. It didn’t matter; he had his own business to attend to, his own projects to get back to, and Dave’s homework to do, except Dave brought Jake home one day and changed everything. 

He couldn’t stop staring at this new guy; at the color of his skin, the cut of his jaw, the green of his eyes, vivid, lively, whenever Jake hung out with the others in the living room, or when they showed up for a snack in the kitchen, or when Jake left Dave’s room for a quick hop to the bathroom and back. The shine in his hair, bright under the light, the way he styled it up, so pretty, so pretty that Dirk’s own hair flat over his forehead was suddenly unappealing; the way he smiled, wide, big on his face, rounding his cheeks and lighting up his eyes, making Dirk’s heart skip, and punch him in the throat, and force him to look away; the sound of his laughter, loud, deep, echoing down the hallway, resonating in Dirk’s chest and warming up his entire body. It was fucked up how his heart raced every time Jake looked at him, and he shivered every time Jake said his name, talking to him when no one else did, acknowledging his presence in the corner of the room, passing him glances every time they saw each other. 

From his own doorframe, he very often watched Dave’s friends leave the room for snacks or a movie, following him out like groupies, laughing at his jokes a little too loudly, complimenting him a little too much, never even noticing him right there, at the end of the hallway, like a shadow. They left, and Jake followed from the back, except he always glanced back at Dirk’s door to see him there, green eyes holding the stare for a moment, breaking it right after as he left. It fucked up Dirk’s heart rate and drove him insane that Jake noticed him, that Jake looked for him, that Jake started smiling at him when they saw each other and made him start looking forward to it, too; ears perked every time the front door opened, and Dave came home accompanied. They didn’t talk, but Jake knew his name; they didn’t talk, but Jake told him that his hair looked jolly dashing styled up; they didn’t talk, but Jake lingered in the hallway while the others left, staring back at him with green eyes that, one day, glanced him down and made him  _ burn. _

Next time they met, the others left the hallway, but Jake stayed behind, watching him, studying him, and the attention made his heart flutter and his face heat up. Jake came closer, slowly, with a look in his eyes that sent a shiver down Dirk’s spine and set his heart off, beating hard against his chest as Jake approached and brought a rainforest with him, cologne that stuffed Dirk’s lungs with lemongrass and freshened up the air like a storm. A quick glance over the shoulder down the hallway, to make sure that the others were gone, and that they were very alone, and Dirk’s skin caught on fire, heart beating out of his mouth; Jake was going to do something very stupid with him and hide it from everybody else, and he could barely fucking breathe from anticipation. Green eyes found his face again, a hand took his arm, and it burned where it touched him, sent goosebumps up to his neck; Jake pulled him to his bedroom, hid him behind the wall, and met his face with a kiss. 

In the kitchen, under the moonlit glow, Jake grabbed his face and leaned down to meet it, sweet but firm, just like the first time. His heart raced, his pulse beat loud, and he wanted more. With so much alcohol clouding his brain right now, it was safe to say that pursuing this had been long accounted for, and pretty much his intention, anyway, even if inadvertent. A tongue on Jake’s lip, skin between teeth, and the hand behind his neck pulled him closer, held him in it, sent lightning down his spine that made his hairs stand on end. They moved together, feet between feet in a dance with few steps, Jake’s hips against his own and a hand on his waist as they turned, pressing his lower back against the counter, bathed in moonlight. Jake pushed against him, forcing him onto the counter, a seat which he took with his good hand down for balance, since he knew exactly where this was going, heart pounding, skin burning. The splint moved behind Jake’s head, his elbow resting on top of Jake’s shoulder as Jake pressed against him, heavy between his thighs, grinding down on him. Leaning on his good hand, he bit Jake’s lips and quieted himself on his tongue. 

Jake didn’t stay the night. They used each other, kissed goodbye, and, in the eerie silence of the dark, inhabited only by the departed, he saw Jake out through the back door. There was talk, Jake saying something that he immediately forgot, and which he shushed vigorously while pushing Jake around the house. He didn’t know that nobody was home right then, but it didn’t matter; Jake kissed him in the backyard, big, comical, with both hands cradling his face, and succeeded in cutting a smile right across it, making him pull back and wipe his mouth on the back of his hand for a joke. Jake’s laughter was his reward, calling back to him all night long. 

Having breakfast alone with Dave wasn’t something that he thought would’ve happened since they moved, and brought back unintentional memories of their father’s house, the heavy silence between them as they ate. Dave didn’t say a single word, and neither did he, helping himself to eggs and bacon and drowning in orange juice just to do something with his hands. Dave drove them both to school, and he could practically touch the tension in the air, sharp in the lungs, cold on the fingers. He remembered the drive back from the hospital two days ago, and had his chest squeeze painfully, a notion falling over him that he had done something wrong again and should apologize, only countered by the knowledge that that would’ve been weird, so he sat in the silence and watched the road instead, breathing shallow, body aching. The last two days had fucked him up, and the painkillers were too close to having no effect already; he should’ve known better than to party last night, even if the entire world had conspired towards it. Dave parked where he usually did, left the car and crossed the campus with him in tow, stopping by his building before going to his own, right along the same path. The only words that they exchanged were see you later, and watching Dave leave only deepened the pit in his stomach, tuning into the voice in his head that told him that he had done something wrong. That this was his fault, somehow; that Dave must’ve known about Jake last night, that Dave must’ve blamed him for the intervention, that Dave was upset at him for some reason. Walking to class felt like the wrong choice. 

Lunch pretty much didn’t happen; nobody showed up at his building, and when he asked Roxy (through Facebook, because, goddammit, his fucking phone) where was it that they were eating today, she viewed his text but didn’t answer it. Five minutes standing idly by the doors, and no one came, so he went to the cafeteria by himself, and, for the first time since middle school, felt completely alone. Part of him hoped to find Karkat here, despite everything, while the majority of himself knew that Karkat must’ve been with Dave right now, and running into both of them together would probably have been the opposite of good. No sign of Jake, either; not even of John, so he took a tray from the counter and sat down with the first bunch of randoms that greeted him right now. In truth, he probably had dozens of tables to choose from; none of which he actually wanted to sit at, though. These people were loud and asked him far too many questions, but they were still better morale than sitting by himself like a fucking loser. They talked, and joked, and mentioned something about Terezi being back from her trip, which was the only thing that he actually tuned into. She was back, and single, which meant that Dave was probably already on that by now. Predictable. 

Out of the cafeteria, on the way back to his building, he saw Jake in the distance, surrounded by the debate club and some Business students, Jane Crocker among them, talking and laughing and bringing him back over half a decade, watching the hallway from his bedroom door. It came over him with a shudder, memories of how he used to feel, memories of how things used to be; the loneliness, the silence, the disinterest. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, numbing his fingers, splintering his insides with a knife, and he made to leave just as green eyes fell on him, suddenly, and made his breathing hitch. History really did repeat itself, didn’t it? A long glance, green eyes focused on his face, holding the stare for a long, long moment, as if Jake were deciding whether or not to approach him right now; to ditch his friends and interact with him in public. There were no agreements about that yet, and, passing by Jake and his friends like this reminded him of high school. Meeting up in bathroom stalls, hiding behind closed doors, making out in the janitor’s closet and leaving at different times. In the hallways, passing each other by with nothing more than a glance and a knowing nod. In silence, he nodded, and left for his building. 

Karkat, the traitor approached him after class to fulfill Dave’s duties this afternoon. Unsurprising, really, given just how eager this guy was to suck Dave dry and pledge allegiance to him. He didn’t blame Karkat, though; his efforts were unfortunately relatable, and, even though he was objectively a traitor, he didn’t mind that himself. They were all traitors to some capacity; Karkat just happened to be Jake’s, but that didn’t automatically make him Dirk’s, too. They had something going on here; a leech type of relation where Karkat only talked to him to gather intel on Dave, and he only interacted back to bounce ideas off of him. He  _ guessed _ that they were friends, but he wasn’t too keen on the word, and, anyway, labeling interactions between people was entirely pointless, because they didn’t mean anything. They studied together and hung out sometimes; that was the extent of it, and if Karkat was going to watch him this afternoon, then that didn’t really change anything; only confirmed his suspicions that Dave wouldn’t be home until way late. Deep inside, he knew that that was his fault, but refrained from texting Dave about it. Instead, he asked Dave about the car, got some info on Terezi skipping today, found out that his cousins had been staying with John this whole time, and let the conversation die there. Dave was currently on his way to eat somebody else’s pussy and upset Karkat in irreversible ways; déjà vu, they had to take the bus. 

Alright, so maybe he related to Karkat a little bit, and maybe he felt for him right now, getting blown off over a girl. Who hadn’t gone through that? Karkat was obviously devastated, but managed not to let that show too much, which he appreciated, because comforting people had never been his forte. They rode the bus, sat in his workspace, and talked for a few hours; an interrogative sort of conversation that was mostly him answering Karkat’s questions and trying not to get worked up about it. Karkat was a goddamn romantic, seeing a relationship where there wasn’t one, seeing a love story where there was only debauchery, and trying to make some sort of point in a topic that he knew nothing about, because he hadn’t been there three years ago, and none of it mattered anymore. They talked, he gave the bike some attention, and, halfway through their little tea party, an email reached his inbox; Jake asking him when was it that they could see each other again. His heart skipped, hands faltering where they worked, but nothing obvious enough for observation. It was fine. Dave wouldn’t be back very soon, so they could meet in a few hours; he’d get Karkat to leave before that. It wouldn’t be difficult. 

During their time together, there was one thing that Karkat said that actually got to him, though. Not on a spiritual level, or anything very deep, really, but it was still something that he hadn’t considered before, and, even though he didn’t believe it, and was probably untrue, it still crawled under his skin and buried itself in the back of his mind, because if Roxy actually wasn’t mad at him; if she  _ didn’t _ harbor any resentment towards him at all, then why was there evidence that suggested otherwise? She hadn’t replied to him earlier. She hadn’t come back home last night, and would rather stay with John all day today, too, almost as if she were avoiding coming home. Both her and Rose, which begged the question, where did John stand amid all of this? What did he think, if he had an opinion at all? With Karkat, he changed the subject and managed to get him moving along, because Jake should be arriving in a few minutes, and he really didn’t want these two to run into each other, except, well. That was exactly what happened, of course; when they got to the door, Jake was already there. Unfortunate, really, right after he scared the shit out of Karkat in regards to Jake, but whatever. It didn’t matter; he was there to mitigate the situation, even if seeing Jake practically dropped Karkat dead on the spot, and seeing Karkat set Jake’s entire existence on fire. He stood between the two, Karkat left safely, and Jake was escorted inside the house, huffing and puffing, which was just great, really; that was the exact kind of mood that he wanted Jake to be in for their little meeting. Dammit. 

“What the fuck, Dirk?” Asked loudly as Jake held up two palms in exasperation, green eyes wide down at him. He pulled the front door closed and pushed past Jake toward the bedroom. 

“Don’t worry about that; Karkat was only here on business, in a strictly professional sense of the word. It’s an agreement.” 

“He’s a bloody snake!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I remember last night; you don’t need to reiterate.” Spoken as he crossed the  living room with Jake right in tow, following close behind. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. He’s an associate. I know exactly what I’m doing.” 

“Well, would you be so kind as to explain what that is, then, mate, because, right now, I’m not quite sure what to even think! He’s a traitor! What are you doing associating with him at all? I thought you and I were both on the same page here. You said so yourself.” 

“Yes, again, I remember last night, Jake; don’t act like I wasn’t there. I know what I said, and I know how you feel about him, bro; I get it. He’s the bane of your existence, yeah, big deal, but, also, he’s just a little guy.” 

“A  _ treacherous _ little guy!” 

“Yes, I know!” Almost a shout, almost, treading far too close to one, but not exactly one; not properly, anyway. His voice was a little louder than usual, and he was absolutely losing control, but was still on top of it. Crossing the bedroom, the two of them rolled right into the garage. “Jesus Christ, Jake, chill. Karkat’s not out here to destroy your goddamn life; we have something a lot more important to take care of right now. Roxy isn’t even talking to you.” 

“Oh, big surprise, Dirk; none of them are, man. Last night completely ruined it for me, but I’m keeping calm. I’m staying positive about it, because you were right; it’s not going to last forever! They’ll come back around eventually, and all of the other gobbledygook that you said. I’m waiting patiently for the day.” 

“Sure, but let’s consider something else: we act on it.” In the garage, he pulled the bedroom door closed behind the two of them, and turned to face Jake, the curious look on his face, eyebrows up in interest. “If we don’t, we might end up waiting forever, so here’s a foolproof plan: we target one of them at a time, changing their mind about you slowly, but effectively. We just have to order the approaches correctly to ensure complete success, because they’re very close to each other, and  _ will _ expose you to the others. We need to work on your image.” 

“Do you really think that that’s going to have any impact on them? Whatever headway I manage to make will probably be undone the moment they make a fool out of me to the others. They’ll never listen to me, mate.” 

“Yes, they will, you just have to be personal about it, so they won’t feel comfortable sharing the experience. I’m thinking you should start with Rose, because, even though John is the weak link of the group, Rose has more of a pull than he does. He changes sides too easily.” 

“Wouldn’t Roxy just change her mind right back, though? She has a much bigger pull than Rose does.” 

“Maybe, but going straight for Roxy is a much riskier move. It might wield you better results overall, but it’s a slippery slope.” 

“Going for Rose might not do much, though; they’ll know my angle, then.” 

“Assuming that she would share the meeting with the others.” 

“I’m pretty sure that she would. With her sister, at the very least.” 

“Well, if you’re going for Roxy, then just make double sure you’re ready before engaging; she’s been taking everything very personally since last night.” 

“Wouldn’t Dave undo our progress, though?” 

“No; Roxy is steadfast. She wouldn’t let Dave change her mind like that. If anything, she could swing both Rose and John to our side and start a mutiny.” 

“I believe you, but if I went for Dave first, we wouldn’t run the risk now, would we?” 

“Dave is going to take a lot to win over. He should be the last one in line.” 

“But he’s the most influential one. If I swing him, I’ll swing everybody else, too.” 

“Jake, you’re aiming too high; Dave’s going to need a lot of convincing for this, and it’ll help to have the others on your side for it. Otherwise, it’s just going to be a rerun of last night. Do you want that?” 

Hesitation from Jake, a slight crease on his brow. 

“No…” 

“Then stick to Roxy if you want a good strategy. She’s very upset that you didn’t reach out to her, so make sure to be non-confrontational and very sorry. Apologize, but not too much, and try to reassure your friendship; how much you care about her. She’ll come home if you’re successful.” 

“She’s not here?” 

“No, she’s with John. Are you free tomorrow morning?” Asked as he pulled up both Roxy’s and Jake’s schedules from the university website, so easily that it might as well have been legal. 

“Well, I’ve got classes, but I suppose I could sacrifice a period for her.” 

“She has a fifteen minute gap between the second and third periods; talk to her then. You’ll have enough time to reach her building after Economics, but that means missing the first fourth of your Accounting class.” 

“That’s alright. Will you send me the locations?” 

“I’m putting together an action plan. She’s going to be alone, but I still recommend getting her to a secluded area for this, like an empty classroom, or a desolate corner. Make sure that no one intervenes, or the numbers will be stacked against you.” 

“Is she really… Is she that upset that I reached out to you first? Is that what they’re all going on about, or is the problem the fact that you got back to me?” 

A brief pause of his thought process, a fault in his brain, breathing hitched, but only for a moment, briefer than a second. 

“Well, that’s kind of always been the problem, hasn’t it? We were never even supposed to talk.” 

“Are they  _ still _ not over that? Christ on a rocketship, Dirk! Can I even win this at all, if they’ll forever resent me for making friends with you in the first place?” 

“I believe it’s evolved way beyond that now. You were their friend first, and whether or not they feel that I stole you from them is merely a cog in this fucked up machine. Hell is on fire, Jake; you’re going to get burned if you don’t move fast enough.” 

“That’s already happened, mate! All that’s left are the ashes of my former self by now.” 

“Then rise from it. You’re clearly not a loser anymore.” 

“Wh, what’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?!” 

“C’mon, bro, you were a huge loser when I met you. Looking back, I think we can both agree on that one.” 

“If that’s correct, then what were you? What would that make you?” 

“I’ve been fucking awesome my entire life; don’t come for me. You were the one who had posters of blue women all over your room, man, c’mon. What’s cringier than that?” 

“You had ponies and robots everywhere! How’s that any different?” 

“That’s merely the duality of man. My decorations expressed parts of my deep and intricate personality, while yours were just horny. We’re not on the same level.” 

“I’m sorry, but how is a huge photo of Owen Wilson’s face right next to your desk not horny?” 

“Simple: I don’t think he’s attractive.” 

A scoff from Jake, and, as he swiftly searched for images of Owen Wilson as Jedediah Smith, he realized that the glasses had service, and could access his text messages again. 

“That has to be poppycock, Dirk; why  _ else _ would you make me watch Night at the Museum so many bloody times?” 

“Because it’s a good movie with homosexual undertones.” Here, he flipped up a palm and held it in between them. “Now give me my phone.” 

Jake handed it to him without a second thought. 

“Next, you’re going to tell me that all of those furries on your television were simply for the aesthetic of it all.” 

“Don’t you appreciate the artistry that it takes to merge mankind with the rest of the Animal Kingdom, Jake? For an Englishman, you’re devastatingly uncultured.” 

“They’re  _ furries, _ Dirk. They’re horny by nature!” 

“What’s horny about Bugs Bunny? Or are you going to tell me you’ve never had a fever dream about Lola Bunny?” 

“I’m clearly talking about the hunky men scantily dressed in leather straps with horse masks on their heads, mate. Explain that.” 

“The craftsmanship that goes into those outfits are worth celebrating, Jake. Have you ever been to a goddamn museum, my man? You sound like a thirteenth century peasant right now.” 

A disapproving click of the tongue and shake of the head, but there was a smile on Jake’s face regardless, and, in a way, the ridiculousness of their conversation brought him back five years, to Jake’s room, to the couch in front of the TV where they had spent countless hours half-watching content while discussing unimportant shit like this; no ulterior motives, no funny business, just the two of them shooting the shit and making each other laugh. It flowed through him like the warmth of a fireplace, the fact that this hadn’t changed, or that it didn’t have to; that the idiotic nature of their friendship still existed despite their time apart, despite their own separate growths, despite the differences that each of them carried now, changed by happenstance and time. At the end of the day, Jake was still his best friend, and life was a lot harder without him. 

“I’ve missed you, mate.” Low and sincere, with green eyes shining, and a smile that softened even the sharpest corners of Dirk’s heart. He felt it in the center of his chest. 

“Missed getting your ass beat in every stupid game you can come up with?” 

Laughter from Jake, the whole reason why he even said anything at all; warmth to the heart, a tug on his own lips. 

“You’ve never beaten me at tug of war, and the addition of robots is cheating. That one didn’t count.” 

“Upset that my intellect is stronger than your muscles, bro?” 

“No; you cheated.” 

“And you’re three years older than me, but I’m not complaining. I mean, I could still beat your ass today, despite that. Robots or not, if that threatens your ego.” 

One eyebrow up, and Jake glanced him down, appraising his stature to those claims, though it still had his heart racing, anyway. It always did. 

“You’ve clearly picked up working out in this meantime, but that splint tells me you’re no match for me today.” 

“You underestimate me. That’s a fatal mistake.” 

“I’m stating a simple fact, Dirk, but if you truly believe that you can beat me one-handed, I’d love nothing more than to see that happen.” 

“Likewise, I’d love to kick your ass for old time’s sake, but, unfortunately, I’m missing a piece of rope at the moment. Sorry.” A dishonest shrug that had Jake shaking his head in response, a half-grin on his face. 

Maybe reconnecting with Jake wasn’t such a bad idea after all, if the fluttering of his heart was any indication of it, and the warmth in his chest meant anything. They talked, and Jake brought up the bike standing behind him, its damaged carcass, if it rode at all. It did, though Dirk was still perfecting it, and the fact that it had been crushed in the accident hung heavy in the air between them, as an unasked question that already came with its equally unanswered response. Jake touched the bodywork and studied the shine of it for a second, the intersecting wires right below it, the semi-exposed engine, before turning back to glance at him, and the splint on his arm. Green eyes found his face, and the urge to pull his jacket sleeves down almost took over him, but it was too warm for that. 

“You know, I meant what I said on Saturday.” Voice level and stern, making his heart punch him in the throat and spread ice across his veins.  _ I know _ hung on the tip of his tongue, and damn near jumped out, too, but he choked on it at the last minute, because the truth was that he  _ didn’t _ know. Jake had said those haunting words and touched his arm and kissed his neck, all to make it look like he hadn’t meant it, like he had only said it to get something out of it, and Dirk didn’t believe him. He did, but he didn’t; he wanted to, but it would’ve been too much. They hadn’t even talked like that while together, unofficially or not, so those unprompted words had not only been uncalled for, but they had been entirely out of character, too. In a good way, sort of; falling right on track with the image of Jake that he had harbored in his mind during these last three years, saying the words that he had dreamed of, playing the part that he hard yearned for so long, but, also, distrustful in the way that he  _ knew _ Jake wasn’t that person. He knew that Jake wasn’t a romantic, and didn’t commit, and that those daydreams were only that; dreams in his head, wishful thinking, impossibilities, and he didn’t know whether to believe him or not. If he fell for it, for this entire act, and let Jake have him, would Jake ever say those words again? Would Jake suddenly become a romantic? If so, then how long until Jake got tired of it; of him, of the lies, of the whole circus that he had created? How long until Jake moved on to somebody else? 

To that, he said nothing. 

“I want you back in my life, Dirk; I don’t care how.  _ You _ can tell me how; I’ll let you decide everything that happens next. I just want to hang out, and talk, and be with you. Please.” Low and sincere and it squeezed his chest, ripped his heart out, made it impossible to breathe, because he had dreamed of this for  _ so long _ that he kind of couldn’t believe his ears right now. Or wouldn’t, because it’d shatter his heart in a million pieces and slash through him like a razor blade to the neck. Air came in shallow breaths, hands cold, throat closed by a knot, body shaking; if he breathed in too deep, or moved an inch, or had his heart pulse a little too hard, his entire self would collapse, aching and ugly, right in front of the only one who couldn’t see it. He felt it, in how fragile the world felt around him, holding on by a thread. This hadn’t happened in a long time. 

“Everything?” A whisper that left him as if through an ethereal plane of existence, but that reached Jake nonetheless. 

“Everything; whatever you want is up to you.” 

A shiver raced down his body, making his hairs stand on end, and his heart skip a beat; once again, he had full control over their relationship, their  _ friendship, _ and could fuck it all up in new, creative ways. A flashback of sophomore year, his hands on Jake’s arms, fingers digging into his skin, softer back then, face to face and an inch between them; Jake’s face turned partly aside, leaning away from him, as he only got closer, and talked, and pushed, and threatened. He wouldn’t be a secret anymore; he refused to keep playing this game, to keep hiding himself in the shadows and playing pretend out in the open, that he didn’t have any feelings for Jake, that there was nothing going on between them, that Jake didn’t crush him under his weight and made him cum every single weekend. If Jake wouldn’t tell, then he’d do it for the both of them. The school would know, and their families would know; Jake’s grandparents would ban him from their house and his father would beat the fuck out of both of them, but he didn’t care; it was stifling, and suffocating, and he could no longer breathe. He had pushed, and forced, and cut their lives loose in an attempt to break himself free, which he had regretted ever since. 

Multiple introspections following Jake’s leave had drawn blood from his wrist and wished countless times for a do-over. If he could rewind and replay, he wouldn’t have pushed Jake out of his comfort zone. He would’ve stayed in the dark and watched Jake’s lies without inserting himself into the narrative that Jake had created; the Jake that was portrayed to the world; straight, strong, stupid and full of girlfriends. He would’ve let Jake pretend to be with Jessica, and make out with Rachel, and take Sarah to prom, all the while keeping quiet, all the while knowing that Jake would meet up with him in the bathroom afterwards and fuck him against the stall, kissing his neck, whispering his name. He told himself that he wouldn’t have ruined everything; that he’d have allowed himself to suffocate and die rather than lose Jake, but the truth was that he wouldn’t. In a do-over, he would probably have done everything the exact same way, because being with Jake was only worth bragging about if he wasn’t being shoved back in the closet for it. 

Currently, he held in the palm of his hand the do-over that he never thought he would’ve ever gotten, and didn’t know what to do with it. Falling back into old patterns was easy, too easy; familiar enough to seep into him without him even noticing, going behind his family’s backs, hiding their involvement from the world, nodding wordlessly in public and nothing else. He didn’t want it, God; he’d decapitate himself before going back to it, yet there he was, following Jake into the shadows again. It felt like shit, but also like the best thing in the world. 

Are you here to hang out or are you here to fuck?, he didn’t ask, because those two things had never been separate events to Jake. They had always done both together, and resumed that with Jake’s return, so the mystery of whether or not Jake  _ wanted _ him shifted from physically to emotionally. How deeply did Jake want him? How strongly did Jake yearn for him? They weren’t good at talking. Sure, they fucked around, and could discuss bullshit for hours on end, but talking feelings had never been their strength. Dirk felt a lot, all the time, but didn’t know how to say it; how to put it into words, how to ask Jake if he felt the same, because Jake was a locked diary, but also an open book. Did his heart beat stronger when they were together? Did his chest grow warm when their hands touched? Did the light shine through when they talked? Jake lived in the moment, did whatever he wanted, and Dirk simply followed, quiet, obedient. It killed him, but it was the only way to live. Was Jake still the same man from three years ago? Yes, but also no. Yes, because he was still dorky, and stupid, and liked bad movies, but no, because he was wiser, and surer of himself, and a lot more open than before. He would’ve never imagined that Jake would’ve been so sincere about his feelings; would’ve ever talked about his feelings at all, which was why he didn’t trust him, but shouldn’t he? Jake had changed, after all; grown and matured, but had he? Had he really, or was this all a ploy? Dirk couldn’t tell. 

“There will be no abrupt decisions, Jake; our friendship will re-establish itself in time. Chill out. There’s Dr. Pepper in the fridge, if you want one.” 

“Does that mean we can get together and chill?” 

“Yes. Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” 

A toothy grin, green eyes shining. 

They hung out in his workspace for a while, with Jake exploring every little nook of it and asking him about it; the half-finished robots slumped in the corner, the parts that he kept repurposing for newer models, why was it that he never left his creations on all the time, whose house this was, and if the others cared that he had pretty much usurped the whole garage to himself. Yes, they certainly cared, but didn’t dare try taking it back, because, technically, the house belonged to his aunt, who was the only one that actually called the shots around here, but who was never really present. She worked somewhere else, three towns away, and only visited every once in a while. They had a car, too, but always parked it in the driveway; the garage was part of his personal space. 

In the room, they sat on his bed and discussed how much they both missed Dirk’s old double bed. It made a hell of a difference, but this wasn’t home, and he had to share the room with Dave now. He didn’t mention the fact that there were more rooms in the house, or that space wasn’t why they shared the room, or that Dave had been sleeping next to him for four years now. Jake didn’t have to know that. Sitting at his left, Jake took his hand and held it, with nothing to say to that, only questions about his music and if he still made any. With Jake’s fingers running across his knuckles and his heart floating up in his chest, he told him that he did, and sometimes played at people’s house parties. Jake had noticed his notoriety. 

“I actually heard about you from the first person that I saw on campus. You’re quite famous in these parts, you know. Blokes talk about you all the time.” 

“Yeah, we have something of a reputation going on. Blame Roxy for that.” 

“Why?” 

“She’s the one who started it.” By purposefully feeding misinformation to the crowd, creating drama, and keeping herself relevant. Four people who looked strikingly similar all enrolling into college at the same time, in the same year, and who were in the same family already drew enough attention by itself, and any form of entertainment was valid to her. It was fun to mess with people’s heads, she had told them once, spreading rumors on purpose and starting drama. It was something to do, and it certainly kept the rest of the campus entertained, as well; interested to know what would happen next; what would be said and what would be done. Pictures with strangers became wells of gossip, and any little interaction was reason for discussion. Had they fought? Was there an addition to the group? Were they dating? Fake friends emerged every other week and erupted the campus into gossip, until they learned to keep others out, slowly, by trial and error. Absently, he wondered just how far word about his interactions with Jake had traveled by now. 

“Play me some of your music.” Spoken as Jake took his shoes off and laid down on the bed, making himself comfortable on Dirk’s pillow. He didn’t think that that would’ve ever happened again, and it was definitely a sight; Jake on his bed, with a knee up and a hand behind his head, dark skin glowing under the dying sunlight, warm in the sunset. He got up to turn on the stereo and pair the glasses to it; a small, portable soundbar half-hidden amid all the junk on his desk, in between books and wires. This was the only desk in the room, and, because it was so close to his bed, he had ended up taking over it. Dave had never really said a word about it, and he had never offered part of it to his brother, either, which rendered Dave doing his homework and studying on his own bed. There was an actual study upstairs, if anything, but Dave was very chill about this stuff. He didn’t seem to mind it. 

Sitting at the desk, he shuffled a playlist that he was always tinkering with, adding new songs to it every time he made one, and moving older ones to different albums. It was a constant work in progress, but it didn’t have any half-finished or half-assed tracks; only the OG stuff that he played at parties and, sometimes, clubs. It really depended on the place, and the fact that he wasn’t even twenty-one yet, but people knew people, and his name on promotional posters gathered crowds, so they let him in every once in a while. Sometimes, a mere confirmation on an event was enough to get people talking about it. 

As the sun inched behind the horizon and soft beats drifted across the room, the two of them watched each other, and listened, and talked, keeping their voices low, and their laughter quiet. It was calm, and nice, and filled his lungs with warmth, and rested his shoulders with peace. This was what he had missed the most. 

At half past six, when the sky outside was dark, and the only thing that lit up the room was a lamp post nearby, he had to ask Jake to leave. He didn’t want to, and the words hurt coming out, sliced along his neck and split his tongue in two, but he didn’t know just how soon Dave would be back, and he absolutely couldn’t let those two see each other, much less in his presence. It was clear on Jake’s face just how much he despised that, too, but understood the reasoning behind it, and only fought him on it a little bit, when his stubbornness would normally have kept him around for at least another hour and a half. He got up from the bed, toed his shoes back on, walked over to Dirk, and landed a kiss right on his face, full on the mouth, pushing him back a bit. He felt the smile on Jake’s face as he pulled back, heart beating on the roof of his mouth, blood pumping quick. With a request to be seen to the door, Jake took his hand and pulled him off the chair. 


	15. The echo of a scream in the distance

Showering in the morning felt like a sin, with how hard he had worked to get Dave on his skin, to have Dave on his body, but he couldn’t show up to class like this; Dirk would know. Taking into account just how close the two brothers were, Dirk probably already knew, but he still wasn’t about to turn himself into some sort of prize, because Dave was the actual prize, and, regardless of how much he wanted to grab Terezi by the shirt and make her smell him, he wouldn’t do that. That was just weird. Yes, he wanted to rub it in her face and gloat after being anxious and stressed and depressed about her for so long, but, in reality, even if he did take out his insecurities on her, she didn’t deserve it. No, he had a better plan; something less weird and less chaotic, but that would make him feel just as good, and, walking into class, he took the closest seat to Dirk available, with his heart beating deeply, and a wide grin on his face. It was time to gossip the shit out of it. In response to his cheeky approach, Dirk simply raised a brow at him, face turning two or so degrees in his direction. 

“Your vibe right now suggests either extremely good news, or extremely unfortunate ones, and, at this point, I’m not sure which one is worse. I think I’d rather hear the bad news first.” 

“Hilarious, dude; top notch content, but keep working on it. I’m actually here because I owe you my obligatory apologies, so here it goes; oh, Dirk Strider, forgive me for not believing you; you were right all along, my liege! Alright, I hope this is sufficiently behind us now. I have no choice but to listen to you in the future, and that is humiliation enough, so spare me the speech.” 

A slight shake of the head as he talked, without actually putting a stop to what Dirk had been doing before he arrived; with a notepad in front of himself, Dirk took notes, though they didn’t seem to be even remotely related to what the professor had been saying in front of the classroom. 

“Even though I’m not sure what is it that you’re referring to, I’m glad you’ve finally seen the light. If this is about Jake, we already have a plan set in motion; he’ll come around in time, just give it a minute.” 

“No, this is obviously not about Jake!” For the next part, he lowered his voice down to a whisper. “Did you even fucking talk to Dave last night?” 

“He got home pretty late, so, no, I didn’t, but congratulations on pulling through, man. I’m proud of you.” 

Wait, did Dirk just put it all together in under a second? Alright, damn. 

“I thought he told you stuff like that.” 

“Well, that’s never actually happened before, so we don’t know. What he tells me about is usually parallel to the information I give him in return, and because I don’t really have what to say at the moment, I guess that locks me out of his business.” 

“But you _do_ have what to say; you literally had Jake over at your goddamn house yesterday. I didn’t tell him, because I thought you wanted to be the one to do it.” 

“Yesterday’s visit was only part of a much broader plan to fix everything. The machinations backstage should never be revealed.” 

“Does that make me part of the staff, then? Because I don’t want any part of this. I don’t want to be involved.” 

“Unfortunately, Karkat, as the face of the opposition, you don’t really have a choice here. You’re already in the race, but don’t worry; I’m pulling the strings for the both of you.” 

“I don’t want to be in the race! I resign. Jake can have the win.” 

“That’s not for you to decide. Right now, I’m waiting on some news about the first part of the plan, which should be coming in soon, so stay tuned.” 

He didn’t ask what that was, because he didn’t want to know, and the less he involved himself in this shit, the better. The cleaner his hands would be in the end, even though he had a feeling that Dirk would tell him all about it, anyway, and his participation was already accounted for. Had been for a while now, to be honest, despite how much he wished he could go back to the very first time that he had heard Jake’s name and remove himself from anything even remotely related to him, because this whole bullshit was a Trojan horse about to ruin a lot for everybody, and he really didn’t want to stick around long enough to see who got the short end of that stick. Surreptitiously, in a sort of prophetic telling, he had a feeling it’d be Dirk, and he really didn’t want to be there to see it happen. Sheltered in the sanctity of his bedroom while everything went down, he’d meet Dave there, and nobody else; the rest of this family was fucking cancelled. Okay, maybe not the girls, because they were the only lawful people around here, but everybody else was free to never talk to him again, Dirk included. Dirk especially, even if he was the only one actively trying to fix things, and had never thrown Karkat under the bus like a certain motherfucker had, but Dave had been absolved of his crimes. His performance last night had saved him. 

“So what’s next on the agenda, bro? You already have Dave under your belt, so who’s next? John?” 

“God, no; _John?_ Are you fucking insane? I’d rather bite my own bulge off than ever fucking think of Egbert that way, Jesus Christ, no. Nobody’s next. There’s nothing else on the agenda, just this, for as long as it’ll go. That’s all.” 

“Are you together?” 

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. We haven’t, uh, really talked about it.” 

A scoff from Dirk, which he pointedly refused to bring up and ask what the fuck it meant, because he didn’t want to know. It meant something important, he was sure, and he actually, really wanted to know more about it, but he wasn’t going to ask. Dirk would probably tell him, anyway, and he suddenly remembered why they were friends; why he kept Dirk around, and why he had been roped into all of this bullshit. As things went, it seemed that getting close to Dave came with its own luggage, and Dirk was attached to the very end of it, pulling his own baggage along. There was no safe way out of this maze if he wanted to continue orbiting around Dave. 

“Well, would you like to be together? Is that the next step here?” 

“No, dude, listen, there’s nothing coming up next. This is already good enough for me; I don’t need to go screwing it up for something better. I’ll take what I can get, and this is far more than I’ve ever imagined, so, no. Thanks, but I’m good.” 

“Alright, then; if the uncertainty of your relationship is what gets you off, then keep at it. Go wild. Unpredictability is an acquired taste; we’ll see how Dave feels about it.” 

“Wait, what do you mean? Feels about what?” 

“About the nature of your involvement. This uncharted territory that Dave just wandered into is huge, and, even though _you’re_ comfortable with your sexuality, and have been planning all of this for a good while now, it’s all very new to him. I mean, get in his shoes for a second; you’re straight, but you’re not, and you’ve just lost your virginity to a dude. A troll dude, like, that’s a lot. There’s enough content here to warrant a life and a half of existential crises.” 

“Okay, but it wasn’t all of a sudden like that. _He_ was the one who started it, dude; he must’ve known what he was doing. He must’ve known what it all meant to him, too. I don’t care if he’s freaking out over his fake heterosexuality right now or what, because he’s had plenty of time to do that, and the fact that _he_ was the one who started everything last night makes me believe that he knew exactly what was going to happen, and he still wanted it, anyway. I’m not worried about him.” 

“As you shouldn’t be, man. I’m just saying that he might still be coming to terms with this new part of himself, so don’t be surprised if he acts up on you. Just keep your head above water, King; don’t let your crown drown.” 

“Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen, huh? I’m his best friend. Did you know that? He can’t just bury last night and disappear on me; I’ll dig up every single grave and hunt him down if I have to. It’s not going to be that easy.” 

“I actually totally believe you on that, but he might ghost you for a while. In public, anyway; he’ll date girls and pretend to be straight to the world, while fucking you in the janitor’s closet in between periods. On the other hand, he might just come out to the entire campus tomorrow; we don’t know. We have no idea what he’s gonna do next.” 

“No, we don’t, but he’s not getting rid of me that easily, that’s for sure.” 

Ghost him and date girls… Dave wouldn’t do that, would he? They were best friends. If anything were wrong, Dave would talk to him about it, right? There was no way he’d push Karkat out of the picture like that, not his best fucking friend, not the only person who agreed to help him on his egregious plans to ruin everything between his brother and his former friend. God, where did Karkat stand in the middle of all of this, even? Not with Dave, it seemed; not by how friendly Dirk was being with him, or how conspiratorial every single one of their meetups had felt so far, despite how much he didn’t want to be in the middle of it all. Dirk had promised to escort him through it, and generally seemed to regard him as an ally, but he didn’t really feel like one, not while holding Dave and kissing him. Somehow, that felt like betrayal, even though he couldn’t really point out who he was really betraying here. On second thought, if Dave found out that Dirk was the one keeping Jake from breaking his nose, what would he think? What would he do? Karkat had absolutely no idea. At this point, Dave really was entirely unpredictable. 

When lunchtime rolled up, Dirk explained that he already had plans, and wouldn’t be joining his family today. He didn’t ask who Dirk had plans with, because it was clearly Jake, just, who _else_ could it have been?, but he decided not to mention that to the others. A quick text to Dave asking where everybody would meet up told him that Dave didn’t know, and that he should ask Roxy about it. He didn’t, because that would’ve been weird; he didn’t even have her number saved, and Facebook didn’t count, because there was a much more normal alternative that would wield him the same results, anyway, which was texting Egbert instead. That told him that the gang was having lunch at Chipotle, so he bid Dirk goodbye and left campus to meet up. 

Much to his surprise, Dave wasn’t there, and the fact that Dave wasn’t coming at all only registered halfway through his burrito, when somebody mentioned Terezi having shown up to class today. Under different circumstances, say, about twenty hours ago, he would’ve wanted to stab himself in the neck with the closest plastic straw to himself and bleed to death at this news, but, as it was, he didn’t mind it. Let Dave have lunch with his troll friend who also happened to be a girl; what did it matter? It didn’t change hard facts, and it honestly didn’t bother him, either. So, surrounded by the three people of the group that he had the least intimacy with, he ate his burrito and listened to their conversation, not adding anything to it, and not really reacting to it, either, as not to draw attention to himself. 

The hottest topic was Jake, of course, who had apparently approached Roxy this morning in an attempt to make amends. Immediately, he wondered if Dirk knew about this, and if this was what he had meant by step one of a very long plan. Apparently, Jake had apologized, but, according to Roxy, not _really_ apologized, and how could he have had the face to come up to her like that, anyway, wanting to move forward, as if nothing had happened? As if his treacheries were excusable by the mere passage of time, as if the damage he had done to Dirk would suddenly reverse itself and they would simply get over it. He was already back to making Dirk’s head again, behind their backs _again,_ and what could they even do? She felt powerless, sitting back to watch her cousin’s ruin a second time around, not knowing how to stop it. That last part made sense to him; as far as he knew, there didn’t really seem to be much out there that would’ve broken Dirk and Jake apart, but he also wasn’t sure why she thought that that was so necessary. In truth, he had only really seen Dirk’s side of things so far, being much closer to him than to anybody else at this table, so he didn’t understand what the problem with Jake really was. He still didn’t know what Jake had done. 

Sometimes people didn’t want to be saved, Egbert told Roxy, avidly avoiding the incredulous look that that got him by staring down at his own food. Rose agreed with him, but had a lot more to say about it, because, at this point, it was clear to her that neither of the two could resist each other. Together, they were like clockwork; with Jake’s impulsivity meeting Dirk’s eagerness to serve him. Jake, as the active party, expressed his wildest wishes and most restless desires to Dirk, the passive party, who already harbored enough energy to please Jake regardless, but couldn’t do it without an active command. Guidelines that told him what Jake liked, and what he wanted, so Dirk could properly serve him. In a way, it was perfect, and only didn’t work when Jake had lost sense of what he wanted; when Jake himself didn’t know which directions to give, so Dirk could properly follow. The moment that that had happened, which Rose argued was at the end of Jake’s senior year, it had all collapsed. Jake had left to find himself again; to find his core, his purpose, and, without a client, Dirk had shut down. He had no purpose. 

Huh, was that right? He didn’t really know enough about Jake to really form an opinion on this, and the fact that everybody here had spent a lot more time with him overall really accentuated just how much he didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know jack shit, actually; he had only met Jake a handful of days ago, and could only say that the guy intimidated him. Mostly because of the very recent beef between them, because, before that, he hadn’t really thought of Jake as a bad person. When they had first talked, Jake had come off as a nice guy, actually, but he obviously didn’t know him. These guys knew him better. 

Egbert congratulated Rose on such a clever comparison, while Roxy simply stared down at her nacho chips and frowned. Did that mean that Jake had found himself again, then?, she asked, not making eye contact with anyone, but having a crease tug on her forehead regardless. Did Jake have a new handful of commands to throw at Dirk now? It seemed that way, yes, Rose answered. Pink eyes met violet ones under a scowl. What if Jake ran out of ideas again? He was months away from graduation; what if he simply decided to go back to England afterwards? What then? Dirk wasn’t a goddamn computer waiting for somebody to open up the command prompt; he was a _person,_ and he suffered like one. If anything, Jake was a deadly virus in a perfectly fine software. He didn’t belong with Dirk at all. 

Well, John didn’t think that Dirk was going to see that, and would only push them all away if they tried to change his mind about Jake, so maybe they could compromise. Not judge Dirk for humoring Jake, but not forbear judgement on Jake’s actions, either. If anything, they should be very wary of Jake, despite letting him be with Dirk. Oh, Dave would never be game for that, Rose commented. There was no way that he’d leave those two alone. Yeah, John knew that, but there was nothing else that they could really do. Every other option to more successfully rip those two apart would only push them closer together, as evidenced by the fiasco that was last Sunday, so, in his opinion, they should be on damage control. Stay close to Dirk, keep an eye on Jake, and try to assess what they could. Pushing her nacho chips around, Roxy agreed with him. After all, she added, Jake was always the one who decided when they were done. He’d get tired of Dirk eventually. 

Whoa, shit. That was fucking heavy. But if it was true, then why was Dirk still covering for Jake? Why was he so willing to get close to him again? Karkat didn’t know fucking anything, damn. 

What of Jake’s apology, then?, Rose asked, wiping her fingertips on some napkins. Was Roxy going to accept it? No, but she would say that she did, just not right now. Maybe later today, when she didn’t hate Jake so much. But she was always going off on Jake, though. Yeah, but she’d get over herself soon enough. What about Dave? The question echoed across the table like a ghost, making everybody share glances, even Karkat, because, honestly, what about Dave? How much of this would they even tell him? There was a sort of restlessness inside of him that wanted to snitch all of it to Dave as soon as he could, but if the others were going to do it, then there was no point in reiterating it. Maybe ask Dave about his opinion on all of it, and maybe keep it to himself, if it didn’t end up reaching Dirk somehow. Everything always seemed to reach Dirk somehow. Clearing her throat, Roxy straightened her back. They should tell Dave after class, she proposed, and get his thoughts on all of it, how they should even do it. Oh, it was going to be bad, Rose assured. Roxy knew, but they needed to all be on the same page about this, otherwise, if Dave saw them all buddy-buddy with Jake just all of a sudden, he’d freak. Yeah, no shit; Dave was never going to agree with it. Maybe not, but they had to try. There were no rebuttals to that, which Karkat supposed indicated everybody’s agreement to it. 

“Are you coming home with us, Karkat?” Roxy asked quietly, voice even, as if drained of energy, but not of sympathy. Her pink eyes regarded him warmly, despite everything, which was actually really nice. 

“Um.” Was he? He had no idea. Dave hadn’t said anything so far; they didn’t have anything planned for this afternoon, but, as Dirk had said, Dave being with Terezi now only meant that Dave would probably be with him later, and if that was really going to be the case, then he wanted to be free for it. He didn’t want to be caught up with everybody else and miss the opportunity, but, also, they didn’t actually have anything planned. “I don’t know yet. Can I get back to you later?” 

“Yeah, of course. Text me after class.” 

Okay, that was weird, because he had never, in his entire life, texted Roxy before, but he nodded his agreement to that, anyway, and didn’t bring anything up to not ruin this. It felt like he was being invited into a very private, very intimate meeting right now, which he kind of really wanted to go to, just to know what the socialites did when the Striders weren’t around, which wasn’t often, and what they thought about them. Would that mean consequently changing sides? He wasn’t on Dirk’s side per se, but he wasn’t on Jake’s side, either, even though association with Dirk probably meant being on Jake’s side by proxy, and this felt like the exact opposition to that. The resistance to Jake’s return, the antithesis of everything that Dirk had been working on, the other side of the game that Karkat hadn’t had the opportunity to see so far, and which really intrigued him for no particular reason. Maybe he just wanted to know how the other team played. 

After class, he texted Dave first, just to set his priorities in order, asking him what they would be doing today. Dave got back to him pretty quickly, saying that they couldn’t hang out, because he was going to watch Dirk for once. Okay, well. Did that mean that they _could_ possibly see each other if Karkat were to, say, take Roxy up on her invitation and spend the day at Dave’s place? Maybe they _could_ possibly hang out then, but he didn’t say that. Instead, he texted Dave his understanding, and moved onto Facebook for Roxy’s contact. He’d like to hang out, if her invitation still stood. She said that it did, of course, and would be happy to have him over. They had to pick up some stuff from Egbert’s place before going home, so if he could meet up with them by the front gates, that’d be great. Yeah, no problem; he put his phone away and promptly started for it. 

Egbert’s house kind of looked exactly how Karkat thought it would, bland and boring, with white walls and wooden accents; minimalistic chic, for the ones who could afford it, a wide driveway and a well-kept lawn. Knowing that Egbert was an only child explained why his father could send him to college and still have a very nice house, while the Strilondes lived in sort of like a cottage with their cousins and no adults around. The girls went in to get their things, while Karkat decided to stay in the living room instead, not really up to exploring the bowels of Egbert’s place, or really spending too much time here. It just felt weird; they barely even knew each other. Sure, they had shared a few classes together in the past, and, for a while, he had considered Egbert to have been his only friend, but that was all very outdated by now. This month felt like a new beginning. 

Egbert stayed out front with him on the meantime, making small talk to keep him company, which was, uh, actually pretty nice of him, though Karkat would never say that out loud. They talked about their classes, how Egbert was probably going to take Calculus again next semester, and how much he was enjoying it. Karkat couldn’t blame him, because Calculus was actually pretty fun, and that was the extent of what they agreed on. Would Karkat be joining him, then? No, he’d probably just take Math again. He wasn’t sure yet. Was he going home for the summer? God, no. No way. He already had plans with his bed in the dorm. Egbert laughed, finding that depressive in a funny way, which he couldn’t really disagree on. Well, the guys were going back to Houston for the summer; maybe he’d like to come with them? The invitation traveled down his nerve endings like lightning, raising his brows and widening his eyes, because he had never really thought about that. Summer vacation with the Strilondes. He knew for a fact that there were at least a couple hundred people who would’ve killed for the opportunity, and while he wasn’t one of them, he knew the value it held. Had he ever been to Houston?, Egbert asked, acting very cool despite how scandalous that invitation had been. Should he even take it? What would Dave think about that? He had no idea what Dave thought about anything these days, and the fear of Dave not liking his presence in his hometown, or maybe even vetoing the invitation was enough to make him not reply to it, at least not yet; not before bringing it up with him. No, he had never been to Houston. 

Back in Dave’s house, nobody was home. It seemed that they were the first ones here, evidenced by the disappearance of Dirk’s Frankenstein of a car from the driveway, and the silence that filled the place. In the living room, he peeked into the Striders’ bedroom only to find no one there, and the door leading to the garage open, with the garage completely empty, too. Maybe the boys weren’t home yet, but if so, then where were they? From the text, he had gathered that Dave would’ve spent the day here with his brother. 

“I thought Dave was home.” He commented airily, thoughtlessly, without really processing that before saying it out loud. 

“They’re making some stops before coming home.” Roxy explained, taking the stairs up to her room with everybody in tow. “Something about D’s meds. Looks like Jake’s already making things worse.” 

What meds? 

“That’s the kind of attitude that will push him even further away from us, you know. If you want him around, you’d better start being more welcoming to the enemy.” 

“Jake isn’t an enemy.” Egbert cut in from the back, almost sounding offended. “He’s just not a good example.” 

“He is a lot of things, John, not just that, but Rose is right; I gotta focus. I have to fully embody the figure of an accepting and loving mother and let Jake into my house, to be monitored very, very closely, and stopped before anything bad happens. We can do that, right? We can stop him if he tries something.” 

“Yes, but I’m not sure how. We’re going to need eyes all over this house, but especially in Dirk’s room, if we want to be successful. There’s going to be a margin of failure, of course, but if we play our cards right, damage should be minimal.” 

“Well, that’s the easy part.” Egbert commented as they all filed into Roxy’s room, getting looks from every single one of them. 

“How’s the entire plan the easy part?” 

“That’s not the whole plan. Monitoring Jake is just one part of it.” 

“It’s practically the entire plan.” 

“How’s that going to be easy?” Roxy cut in, closing the door behind herself. “D notices everything. We can’t put a camera up, or hide a wire, or monitor his phone, because he will know. I honestly have no idea how we’re going to pull this off.” 

“Oh, yeah, there’s no chance we can do this without him knowing.” 

“Then how is it the easy part, man?” 

“Because we’re not trying to hide from Dirk. I mean, there’s no point; he’ll know that we’re watching him whatever we do, so let’s not even try.” 

“Alright.” Spoken slowly, as Rose seemed to make sense of Egbert’s words, a curious look on her face. “Do you propose that we watch them openly, then?” 

“Yeah. If we’re all hanging out together, and just always on Jake’s ass, there’s no way we won’t know what’s going on between them.” 

“Wouldn’t they just lock themselves into a room?” He asked, inserting himself in this narrative for the first time, because it seemed kind of crazy that those two would willingly breathe the same air as everybody else while together. They seemed too conspiratorial for that. 

“Nah, Jake doesn’t have the balls to do that. They’re good at hiding, not doing stuff in front of everybody else. There’s no way he’d get up and ask D to follow him into a room, like, that’s _so_ obvious. Too obvious! I think he’d be mortified. I think John’s right about this.” 

“So we’re going to hang out with them anytime Jake’s over.” Rose added thoughtfully, violet eyes off in the distance. “But how do we send Jake a message while sending Dirk the exact opposite of it?” 

“Maybe we could corner Jake for a second, separating them just real quick.” Spoken as Roxy took a seat at her desk and pulled out her phone, unlocking it. “We talk to Jake without D knowing.” 

“What’s going to keep Jake from telling Dirk about it? Sounds like the perfect way to sabotage everything we’ve worked for.” 

“Maybe if you say something that he wouldn’t want Dirk to know.” He commented, putting in his two cents on the table, while mostly trying to stay out of it, because, well. It felt bad plotting against Dirk like this; they were friends. They were probably the only friends out of this whole bunch, to be honest; Karkat knew him the best. 

“If we pressure him enough, I think he’ll abscond rather quickly. We all know what happened when their relationship went public.” 

“I’m texting Dave to come upstairs whenever he’s home.” Roxy stated distractedly, tapping on her phone screen. 

“What are we going to tell him?” 

“Everything, I think. I mean, is there anything we shouldn’t say?” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him that we’re going to approach Jake alone. Let’s draw the line where we let Jake in and we monitor him.” 

“Okay, that’s fair.” 

“Why would you leave that part out?” He asked, unable to catch himself and not fucking say anything. 

“Dave can get weird when it comes to taking a stand, and I don’t want him to be the one to talk to Jake alone.” Roxy explained, putting her phone away. “I don’t want him super involved in this, even though I know he will be.” 

“Should we all hang out together, or should just, like, one of us be there at a time?” 

“It seems fairly more convincing to me that we all stand ground together, monitoring Jake at the same time. Perhaps even taking turns to follow him out the room anytime he leaves.” 

“You know, I think that’ll just make them want to hang out at Jake’s place.” Spoken as a real, genuine thought right now. What was stopping them, anyway? 

“Dave wouldn’t let Dirk do that. At least, we can ask him not to let him do that, so they’ll have no option but to be here together.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

“Didn’t Dirk lose his license?” 

“Yes, he did, but while that should mean more, John, it really doesn’t change much here. Dirk’s driven without a license before.” 

“Well, Dave would kill him.” 

“Yeah, but where Jake’s involved, I don’t think much stands in his way. While I don’t believe he’d completely disregard Dave’s orders, I also don’t think they would ultimately keep him from acting out of impulse in a dire scenario.” 

A single knock on the door, and everybody turned to look at it, to watch Dave push it open and walk in. Aviators found Karkat’s face almost immediately, making his heart jump, and locked on him as Dave closed the door behind himself. At the desk, Roxy spoke, only then redirecting dark lenses away from him, and letting him breathe. He didn’t realize to have been holding a breath this whole time. 

“Dave, we’ve reached a verdict on how to proceed in regards to Jake, and we’d like to share our vision with you.” 

“What’s Karkat doing here?” Asked with a loose hand pointing at him, making his blood run cold. 

“He’s a valuable member of this council and I invited him here for his vote on the matter at hand.” Wait, was that right? He hadn’t been informed. “Now, listen; we’ve decided to let Jake be close to D again, and hang out, and whatever the fuck, except we’re going to watch him the whole time. He’ll be monitored the entire time that he’s here, just so we can make sure that no shenanigans will take place, and we won’t have a repeat of high school. What do you think?” 

A shrug, loose, disinterested. 

“Okay, sounds good.” 

Roxy practically beamed at that, throwing a glance at the others that was just short of being accompanied by a shit-eating grin, eyes bright. 

“Well, what kind of constructive criticism do you have for us?” 

“None; I think that’s fine. I don’t care.” Spoken as Dave turned back around and opened the door again, making to leave, but stopping just shy of doing it to glance back at the crowd. The surprise on everybody’s faces told Karkat that this wasn’t the reaction that they had expected out of Dave at all, but he wasn’t worried; Dave had agreed to their approach on this mess, and it didn’t look like he was going to overthrow it, or even really intervene at all, which should quell Roxy’s unease about that, too, so, really, he wasn’t worried. Ray-Bans found his face again and held it. “Karkat, can I see you outside for a second?” 

Okay, _now_ he was worried, heart hammering him in the chest all of a sudden, even though he didn’t exactly know why. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong by hanging out with Dave's cousins, and he wasn't going behind Dave's back if they had told him about it, but still something closed around his throat and choked him with what Dave had to say in private. It just felt like he was in the wrong somehow, even though he probably wasn’t, but Dave still didn’t have to like him being here, regardless of moral compass. They had never talked about a scenario like this, where he spent time with Dave’s family without him, and it felt weird, now, thinking about it. Was Dave mad at him? Upset, maybe? Dave left, and the rest of the room watched him get up to follow, feeling his own hands shake as he closed Roxy's bedroom door behind himself. Would Dave kick the shit out of him? In the silence of the hallway, darkened by the lack of windows, and muted gold by the sunlight that filtered in through the one curtain at the far end of it, Dave took his arm and pulled him away from the door, nearer the balcony handrails that overlooked the bottom floor. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Asked in something of a hushed, angry whisper in the small space between them, making his heart race and his arm jerk away from Dave's grasp as a natural response to being grabbed like this. His mother used to do the same thing, and his eyes widened, lungs constricted; fight or flight immediately kicking in, he had only ever run once. 

"What’s your fucking problem, dude? _You_ said you couldn't hang out today, but _they_ could; it’s not my fucking fault they live with you.” Loud and aggressive to confront Dave, even though he took a step back while talking, adding some space between them, hands trembling, breath coming in short. “What’s the big fucking deal, bro? We're friends, all of us. I didn’t think it’d be a problem." Voice slowly coming down, a gradual process, as he essentially cowered in a corner and refused to look Dave in the shades, heart beating out of his mouth. 

This was when a hand usually came down to slap him across the face and maybe take him by the collar next, and his body shuddered, arms crossed, hugging himself, bracing himself for it, one second away from cringing, but there was silence, and there was nothing. A moment passed, and nothing happened, pushing an absent exhale out of him, shoulders dropping a bit as he sneaked a glance up at Dave from the corner of his eye, to see him take a step back and glance off at a portion of the hallway, hand up to run through his hair and brush it off his forehead. What was this reaction? Still hugging himself, he turned to watch Dave better, to study the part of his face that he could see; the slight crease between his eyebrows, the tension on his shoulders, the way he stepped back and almost paced around, but didn’t. There was something there that he couldn’t really read, despite it being on full display, despite it eating Dave alive. In silence, Ray-Bans locked themselves straight on his face, and reflected his dumb, wide eyes back at him, skin paler than a ghost, small within the oval frames. 

"Did you tell them?" 

Instinctively, he opened his mouth to ask what Dave meant, but promptly shut it again, heat crawling up his neck, singeing his cheeks; they didn’t talk about it. Yes, they had talked about it once, right before taking it all up a notch, but it had been a lead-up to that, almost part of it, and they didn’t talk about it. His neck burned where Dave had kissed him, the ghost of his lips still on his skin, across his cheeks, making him shiver. No, he hadn’t told anybody. 

"Of course not, man. It’s not their business.” 

At that, Dave sighed, present and visible, evident in the way that it dropped his shoulders and relieved the tension from his body, how he held himself, looser now, and his heart skipped, lounging for his throat; what massive solace for him, what great news this must’ve been. How unconcerned he must’ve felt now, knowing that the whole world was still oblivious to whom he really was, but if the mere risk of having the others know that was harrowing enough to practically send him into a fit of mania, what would he have done if Karkat had actually told? Would he have beaten Karkat up, thrown him over the handrails? Why was it so pivotal that they remained a secret? His heart squeezed him in the chest, folding into itself, heavy like a rock in the pit of the stomach, because maybe Dave regretted it. Maybe the world was never supposed to know; a diligent secret, a one time mistake. One step closer, and Dave reached for him, touched him on the arm right where he had grabbed just a minute ago, making him shrug away, jaw set, eyebrows scowling. 

“I’m sorry about that.” 

“Yeah, don’t fucking do it again.” 

“Sorry, I…” Hesitation from Dave, arm pulled back to himself at his rejection, both hands closed into fists, moving a bit, unsure what to do with themselves. What was this? “I've been kind of fucked up lately, and I know that’s not an excuse, but it’s just, it’s a lot, and I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise." 

“Yeah, no shit you’re fucked up, bro; you just turned on your best fucking friend! I'm on _your_ side, asshole! I'm not going to fuck you over, dude; what the fuck." Loud and angry as his heart bled, and his chest squeezed, and his hands closed into fists, and fuck Dave, fuck Dave, _fuck_ Dave. 

"I know! God, I know, I just…" One big sigh, and Dave’s arm raised again, a hand to run through his hair, to bury itself in it, aviators turned to glance down the hall, away from him. What the fuck was this, all of it? Why was Dave so fucking anxious if their secret still lived? 

"Dave, just what the fuck is happenning to you?" 

"Nothing! I just, I mean." A pause, and a breath; hesitation in Dave’s voice, an aimless step to shuffle his weight around, as if too uneasy to stay still. Something was eating him up inside. "It just feels like the whole world is falling on my head all of a sudden, you know? Like I’m drowning, and I don’t even know where the surface is, where to even start swimming. It’s, it’s kind of scary." 

Huh. Scary how? Nobody knew about them. At least, no more than what they had done in public so far, which was only that one second at Acid Mushroom that none of the family had brought up ever since, and Dave knew that already, so what was scaring him? What could possibly have been more nerve-wracking than the sanctity of their secret? Unless… Unless it was something else. Maybe it didn’t come from that exactly, but from a much deeper, much more personal place; an invisible struggle that nobody but Dave could see and experience. A click, and Dirk’s voice echoed in his head. The nature of their involvement, Dave’s bogus heterosexuality, the intricate mosaic of who he thought he was his entire life being shattered and broken, coming down to wash him in colored glass. Dirk was right; Dave was still adjusting, and figuring himself out, and freaking out on him, and the fact that he got to see this kind of vulnerability from Dave was so unthinkable that he had almost not recognized it. It had almost slipped him by entirely. Dave was afraid of everything getting out of hand; of having Karkat out him to the world before he could even get a grasp of what was happening, as if he’d ever do something so maniacal, as if he were that kind of person at all. In the silence of the hallway, he felt himself soften, ears drooping with his sympathy. 

“You’ll find the surface, dude. It’s dark and cloudy right now, but just give it time; the sun will show you the way soon enough. You’ll know where to swim then.” 

A nod from Dave, head tilted down, as if staring at the ground between them. 

“It just sucks, I guess.” 

“Yeah, but you’ll be fine. If anything, I’m here to throw you a line. You know that.” 

“Yeah, I know.” A pause, and Ray-Bans moved up to stare at him again, his own droopy ears reflected onto the lenses. "What about you, man? How are you doing?" 

Oh. For whatever reason, he wasn’t expecting that. 

“Um, I’m fine, I guess.” Nowhere near what Dave had been experiencing, but not walking in the park, either. There was Jake, after all, even if Dirk was taking care of it, and there was everything that that entailed, which was more than just a handful, and which he was right in the middle of, courtesy of Dave. Well, maybe courtesy of the both of them together, to be honest; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been more than willing to help at the time. “I mean, Jake wants to kill me, and the dorm is a warzone, but, you know. Other than that, everything is chill." 

"Right. He’s probably upset about what happened; I hadn’t even thought about that." 

“Yeah, I’d have to say he’s definitely, uh, definitely a little more than just upset. I’d go so far as to say he’s pretty fucking pissed at me, actually, but that’s beside the point.” 

“Pissed off, really?” 

“What can I say, I excel at being a fake ass piece of shit friend. I almost don’t even blame him.” 

A tug on the corner of Dave’s lips, a smile that never happened. 

“Agreeing with you here would void the contract and create a PR nightmare for the company, but I will say that hiring you was fruitful, and possibly the best decision the board’s ever made.” 

“That means a lot coming from the chairman. Am I getting a raise?” 

A scoff, and something between them shifted; a lightness on Dave’s posture, the ghost of a defunct smile on his face, the lifting of a heavy coat, and it seemed that everything was fine for a second, that Dave was back, that the heavy atmosphere between them was gone, but as soon as this lightness came, it faded. Aviators glanced off again, away from his face, and the smile that never happened had all traces of itself wiped off clean, shoulders down, the coat was back. He could feel the scowl that dug into his forehead watching this, the seemingly perpetual heaviness that Dave had been living in, that set his jaw and pinched his eyebrows together. Hesitation, Dave taking a step nowhere, shifting where he stood, and Ray-Bans glanced back at him, although Dave had a foot toward the door. 

"Are we good? Like, are we chill? Because, you know, I wanted to stay last night, I just, I had to come home. I couldn’t, like, you know. Bro was waiting for me." 

Eyebrows up, and heat enveloped his face, because they didn’t talk about that. Except they did. 

"Yeah, it's fine. It’s chill; I get it." He really hadn’t minded that at the time, and still didn’t. “We’re cool, Dave; don’t worry about it.” 

A nod from Dave, almost relieved, and a partial exhale to go with it, but the hesitation was still there; the eagerness to say something else, to follow that up with what actually mattered, to trespass into forbidden territory and uncover what he probably didn’t want to see, what he was too scared to see, what he probably already knew what it was. Dave moved again, took a step backwards towards the stairs, Ray-Bans glancing around as he did, alongside his indecision, bouncing across Karkat’s vicinity, but never really resting on him. 

"Okay, um. I'll catch you later, then. I, uh. I gotta go." Flustered and unsure as Dave took another hesitant step back, but still stuck around, almost as if he didn’t want to leave. 

“Alright, dude. I’ll see you later.” 

Another step back, but Dave still lingered, staring hard at his face now, dark lenses reflecting his lack of emotion back at him, the impassive one for once, as unreadable as a Strider that had to hide behind sunglasses for it. He had been getting good at that, soaking up a lot more of Dave’s mannerisms than he had noticed just from spending so much time with him, from wanting to be relatable, from trying so actively to be somebody to rely on. In a way, his relationship with Dave wasn’t all that different from what he had done to Jake, except this one he cared to maintain. This one was the only one that mattered. A heartbeat in silence, and Dave finally turned around to take the stairway down. It brought him back to their parting last night, the way Dave had lingered between him and the door, as if reluctant to leave, as if waiting for something to happen. Maybe waiting for his own self to do something about it, but not having the guts for it. Aviators glanced up at him one last time before Dave disappeared into the lower floor. 

In Roxy’s room, the discussion was how and when exactly they were going to bring the whole subject of decision up with Dirk. Should they be chill about it, and act as if it wasn’t a big deal, or would that give their plan away? If it would, then the alternative was pretending to be really pissed and uncomfortable about it, but wouldn’t Dirk catch onto their bullshit right away and know that something was up? In either case, Dirk was probably going to sniff them out, anyway; he was strangely good at that, so they might as well be transparent about it. Not tell Dirk the whole plan word for word, but not try to cover it up, either. Maybe they could even be cheeky and allude to a bigger picture, but let Dirk figure it out for himself. Yes, Roxy loved that idea. Should they go down right now? Well, shouldn’t they? Nobody could really come up with a reason to wait any longer, so they left the room and took the stairs down. 

As expected, Dave wasn’t around anymore. On the one hand, Karkat got that; he was going through a lot right now and probably needed some time alone, but, on the other, so much for watching his brother for once. Huh, had he ever planned to actually do that, or had it all been just an excuse not to see him today? Dave had been keeping himself at a distance from his entire family, it seemed; why should Karkat have been an exception? Well, he knew why, but Dave might not have thought similarly. Maybe Dave needed to get through this by himself, and if that meant being away from him, then he just hoped that it wouldn’t last too long. He’d still check up on Dave and keep close, of course, just not too close. There was too much on the line to go screwing around at this point. 

As usual, Dirk was found in the garage, sitting at the only chair around, near his bike. The council filed in and stood in a sort of wall formation between him and the door, as if trying to be intimidating, which Karkat couldn’t tell if it had worked or not, because all Dirk did was sort of stare at them, not saying anything. Roxy came forward and told him the good news about Jake; that he was allowed in this house once again, and that they were over themselves. They weren’t over what Jake had done in the past, but they agreed on coexisting with him in the same house, if that meant Dirk would be happy to see him. Surprisingly candidly, Dirk confirmed that he would, and quickly followed that up with a request to invite Jake over right away. Karkat had a feeling that that would happen, and quickly moved over to the door, because there was no fucking way in hell he’d gratuitously run into Jake again, even if around everybody else, who, he’d like to believe, would’ve protected his little body in case of an attack. Dirk was probably his best defense against Jake, and the only one who actually stood a chance against the guy, despite his fucked up arm, but Dirk was also the most dangerous one to hang around, due to just how close he was to Jake overall. Pros and cons. In silence, he tried to sneak his way out of the door, but Egbert caught him damn near immediately, making him stop halfway through the frame. Everybody else moved to glance at him next. 

“I should probably go.” He explained, feeling heat crawl up his neck and make his cheeks burn. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.” 

“That’s a good idea.” Spoken lowly from the middle of the room, Dirk his one supporter through and through. 

The look on everybody’s faces told him that they didn’t really understand what was going on here, but, as a rule, no one ever seemed to contradict Dirk, so they gave him their goodbyes and let him go unscathed. Had he stayed, he was sure he would’ve turned into strawberry jam, but that didn’t mean he was safe just yet; there was the building to traverse, and the risk of running into Jake at every turn. Obviously, he didn’t want it to happen, but, as the universe had proved many times before, the more he thought of someone, the more likely it was that he’d run into them, so of _course_ he saw Jake, just as he rounded the corner to their hallway, standing right in the middle of it, three feet away from him. The sight traveled through him like lightning, and had him standing there, at the top of the stairway, mute and immoble, like a statue. Staring at him, green eyes hardened, and he could see the small shift on Jake’s forehead, scowling at him ever so slightly, but there enough to make him practically shit his pants. In hindsight, perhaps he should’ve stayed with Dirk. Jake moved closer, and, as a reflex sort of response, he side-stepped out of the way, making room for Jake to take the stairs. Jake did just that, but stopped right in front of him instead of going down, making his heart leap up to his throat and his eyes jump out of their sockets. Fuck. 

“I’d like to have a word whenever you can.” Voice level, with no real emotion to it, which was a lot less threatening than what he had been expecting. A quick nod in response, and Jake finally turned to leave. 

Safely locked into his own room, he desperately wanted to tell Dave about this, but, as he held his phone with Dave’s chat window right on screen, he thought of earlier, and decided against it. Dave had enough on his plate already, and, anyway, there was somebody else that would probably have liked to know about this more than he did, so he opened Facebook and pulled up Dirk’s chat window instead. 

BEFORE I GO COMPLETELY APESHIT AND JUMP OUT THE WINDOW TO SAVE JAKE THE TROUBLE OF GETTING HIS HANDS DIRTY, TELL ME YOU HAVE EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL. 

I have everything under control and it’s high time you understand that, Vantas. Jake’s not going to hurt you. 

CAN YOU PROMISE ME THAT? 

I wouldn’t be saying it if I didn’t mean it, but if it makes you less paranoid, then, yes. I can. 

HE WANTS TO *TALK* TO ME. WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? IS HE GOING TO KICK MY ASS? I HAD THIS COMING. I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN ANYWAY AND I WISH I FELT MORE PREPARED FOR IT BUT I DON’T. I THOUGHT I WAS BUT I’M NOT. 

TELL HIM NOT TO DO IT. I DON’T WANT TO *TALK* WITH HIM AT ALL, EVER. 

Did you run into him just now? 

YES OF COURSE I DID. WHAT YOU THINK I’D JUST GET HOME SAFE AND CHILL FOR THE REST OF THE DAY LIKE AN INNOCENT PERSON WHO ISN’T CONSTANTLY RUNNING FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF THEIR ACTIONS? FUNNY. THAT HASN’T BEEN ME FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE A HUNDRED YEARS. 

He’s not going to wreck your shit, man. If he wants to talk, I have a feeling it’s just that, and you have no reason to worry. I’d warn you against it if there were shenanigans, you know that. 

I have your back, bro. Trust me. 

It’ll be fine. 


	16. Overthinking, overplanning

There was a lot about Dave’s current behavior that weighed his shoulders down and made his blood run cold; little things that piled up in his head and formed a hand to point a finger back at him, as the origin of his own demise. The silence, for one, heavy and deafening, that beat him over the head a thousand times over, was probably the worst of them all. Jake left, and he was alone all night, as the only person in the house, going over the bike one last time, watching the clock tick, and having the world around him grow dark as the hours passed and the silence engulfed him entirely. He skipped dinner, took a quick shower, laid in bed, and considered the possibility of Dave not coming home tonight at all. The quiet and the solitude crawled under his skin with a scalpel, slicing him open and filling him with ice, cold and heavy; a replay of 2014, the cold dampness of his father’s house, the lonely hours after dark, mute in his own bedroom, dead since Jake’s departure. With his phone on the nightstand, and his heart beating out of his chest, he unblocked Jake’s number. Without thinking, he pulled up Jake’s chat window and sent him a text, a cry of desperation at a quarter past ten. At least he had Jake to talk to this time around. 

Hey. Did you get my email? All the information for tomorrow’s success is on it, but I need to know you’re not confused about anything before you strike. Is it all crystal clear? 

Sorry if I’m waking you.

It didn’t take Jake thirty seconds to get back to him, drawing breath into his lungs, and making his bed suddenly feel a lot more comfortable underneath him. 

Hello good chap! You didnt wake me at all i was only doing some light reading before retiring for the night. 

I did receive the email and as far as i can tell even idiots can understand it so were jolly good! 

A grin, hidden in the darkness of his room, heart beating lighter already. He’d be alright. Everything was fine. 

Excellent. I expect news of your mission the moment it happens. Don’t leave me hanging.

Absolutely not. I think id rather succumb to the woes of mortal injuries instead. 

Hows the current situation looking by the way? Any news on your cousins? Any mysteriously new development that i should know about before charging headfirst into tomorrow? 

Not as far as I’m aware. Roxy isn’t replying to me, and Dave isn’t home yet. If there happens to be any relevant developments in the meantime, I’ll be sure to relay the information to you stat. You know that. 

Hes not home yet?

No. At this point, I assume his endeavors were successful enough to grant him an overnight stay and a parking spot wherever he is. 

Which was Terezi’s place, but Jake didn’t have to know that. Nobody really had to know that just yet. It was Dave’s right to share that kind of information with the rest of the world, and, as a rule, he never got involved in Dave’s business if his involvement wasn’t called for, which it usually wasn’t. Dave was very private when it came down to it, especially considering any resemblance of a love life, and the last thing he’d ever do would be exposing his brother’s romantic endeavors to anyone. In truth, he didn’t even know what had actually happened at Terezi’s tonight, and if the silent treatment remained, then he’d probably never really find out. His heart squeezed at the thought, but he only had himself to blame. He had rigged his own demise, after all; Dave was only reacting to it. 

Are you telling me i couldve been there this entire time but im here instead? Alone??

I relate to your plight, Jake, but you have to remember that we’re playing safe here. We couldn’t risk getting our cover blown for a couple more hours together. It’s not worth it. 

For a significant amount of hours together you mean. 

Is he coming home at all?

I don’t know. Similar to the others, he hasn’t exactly been in contact with me, either. The possibility of me asking him for an ETA exists, but I’m unwilling to bite the bullet. That’s a trap I’d rather avoid. 

Tell me youre not thinking what im thinking. 

Don’t. It’s not safe. 

Dirk.

You don’t have a good hand to bet like this, Jake. If he does come home and catch you here, there are no amount of plans or ploys that will reverse that kind of damage. Remember my fifteenth birthday? 

I remember your birthday. 

We can’t have that. 

Well it all worked out in the end didnt it? He didnt actually see anything. It was his birthday too after all! Double birthday double presents. You were celebrating. 

Bro, are you for real? 

Alright alright i get your point. I was simply horsing around. 

I suppose what i mean to say is that i miss you. Is that so awful a crime? 

A noise outside, the distinct roar of a car engine, rumbling low as it slowed down, the one sound that he had personally manufactured for himself, and, he supposed, the rest of the family, as well. His heart skipped, blood running cold. 

I have to go. He’s here. 

He didn’t know why, but, as an instinctive response to panic, he pulled the blanket over himself, laid on his side, and pretended to be asleep. The whole reason why he wanted Dave to come home was to not be alone in the dark, lost in the quiet, and this hide-and-seek wouldn’t do anything for him, but his heart hammered into his chest and his breathing came in short, shallow, eyes watching the room behind the glasses, night vision on. The sound of the front door swinging open and closed, softly, was soon followed by the bedroom door creaking open, slowly, and Dave stepping in, careful on tip-toes, as if coming home after curfew. He watched Dave change into pajamas and get in bed as quietly as he could manage, plugging his phone into the charger, his entire face lit up in the dark, staring at the screen. He scrolled, and tapped, and typed, and watched something, and Dirk supposed that he just wasn’t ready to go to bed yet. Still, it was nice having company, even if silence continued to reign. 

The following morning, he decided to break the ice and get some conversation going over breakfast, because this whole thing was choking him slowly, too tired to keep his head above water, adrift in the Pacific without a single plank to float on. While pouring himself some orange juice, he made a comment, voice level, with no emotion to it, trying to pass it as offhand when he had actually panicked about it for the last half hour. 

“You stayed out pretty late last night.” 

“Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry about that.” Spoken easily, between bites of pancakes and strawberries, almost as if Dave had been expecting it. Well played. “How long did Karkat stay?” 

“Until about six.” 

A hum from Dave, simple and noncommittal. Okay, cool. Conversation over. 

It was only in class that he learned of his brother’s true whereabouts last night; the reason for his late, and, honestly, very guilty arrival, tip-toeing around the house because he knew he was in the wrong. Karkat’s smashing success in making himself irresistible had pulled Dave right into bed, fulfilling what must’ve been a lifelong goal for him. What a hit, and in record time, too. What came next? According to Karkat, nothing, but he didn’t really believe in that himself. There was always something. If not now, then later; it’d come up eventually. Dave still had a lot to go through emotionally, and Karkat was going to tag along, even if he didn’t think so; they had both started this together, and Karkat was bonded to Dave’s every experience in the process of trashing his heterosexuality. If Karkat wanted to make their involvement last, then he’d stick around to see this through, and Dirk had a feeling that he’d do anything for that. 

As for Jake, mission status was uncertain. It had happened; Jake had told him that much, but everything else was a mystery, which led Dirk to believe it had either been a horrible mistake, or a great success, but, as things had been going these days, it was hard to expect good news. Instead of outright telling him how it went, Jake invited him to lunch, promising they’d talk then. There had been no texts in the family group chat mentioning lunch at all, so he guessed it was safe to assume it’d be a rerun of yesterday, where nobody would come to pick him up, and lunch would be spent separately. It cut through him that his cousins still didn’t want to have anything to do with him, even though he completely understood their reasonings, and agreed with them himself. It sucked anyway, but still not as much as the situation with Dave, somehow. That stung more than anything else. 

At Popeyes, Jake sat across from him and proceeded to tell him everything except for what he wanted to know; vague comments about his classes, group projects with Jane Crocker, how well his thesis had been coming along, and how excited he was to graduate this summer. If Dirk interrupted now, he knew that there would be no redirecting Jake to what really mattered, or even remotely away from the fact that he had rudely interrupted, which was what Jake actually wanted him to do, talking out of his ass like this, reaching for any reason to not address the elephant in the room. Telltale signs of Jake’s nervousness, meaning that the approach had gone horribly wrong, and Dirk could safely brace himself for it. Having learned his lesson a long time ago, he decided to sit this one out and wait for Jake to be finished, so he wouldn’t be interrupting when asking about Roxy in twenty minutes or so. Sipping patiently on his Coke, he listened to Jake talk about how much better he liked this campus to the other one, and how friendly everybody around here was, eager to make friends with him and take him out partying and share their notes on Google Documents. He didn’t think that Business classes would’ve brought him such cool and helpful friends like this, so having people to talk to was a big surprise, and a pretty big difference from his old campus, too. He had felt pretty isolated back there, even though he had plenty of friends, and people to hang out with; everything had just felt like it was all under a filter of gray. Dirk understood that better than most, but decided against mentioning it, in case Jake were to use that to block the way to the topic that they both knew he was ignoring. A knowing nod from him, patient and calm, and Jake’s grin finally faltered, green eyes dropping to the basket of french fries between them as Jake reached for one. This was his chance. 

“So how was it with Roxy? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I have a feeling it was a complete failure.” 

“It… I wouldn’t say  _ complete _ failure.” Spoken as Jake refused to look at him, eyes trained on the fries, hands pushing them around. “I’d say my friendly advances were not well received, but she did talk to me, which is reason enough to stay positive about it, innit?” Green eyes met shades, and Jake’s attempt to sell him manufactured hope was fruitless. Step one of their plan had already failed, which meant an impending rework of the entire scheme, from start to finish, because this was absolutely laughable, and not how he operated. Jake must’ve not done what he had explicitly told him to do, jeopardizing the rest in the process, and handing him a lot more work to do, but it was fine. Getting frustrated at the only one who had to do this for him would’ve been of no help to him at all. They’d start from scratch, and it was fine. 

“She’s still upset about Sunday, which I fully understand, and also about the way I sneaked up to you, which, I suppose, I get that, too, although not necessarily, but that’s a discussion I’d rather not rehash. I didn’t even bring it up with her; I simply apologized, and she said she got the point of that, but that there was nothing I could do to make amends other than leave, so I did. I’m aware that she meant it in a much broader scale, but actually doing it would’ve been counterproductive, I feel. Not to mention that I would really rather stay.” 

His heart skipped, hands twitching, chest warm with coal, like a hearth. Jake wanted to stay. 

“Entirely counterproductive, yeah; the exact opposite of what we’re trying to achieve. By that logic, though, if we get you to spend as much time with the others as possible, then we might be able to reverse some of the damage done. Amends aren’t made from a distance.” 

“Right. I suppose the next logical step is somehow getting everybody in the same room as me without all Hell breaking loose.” 

Easy. 

“Make sure to be at Sub Rosa this Friday night, then. As far as I know, everybody’s going. That also means Dave, but he usually sticks to Karkat like glue on paper at clubs like that, so if we can get Karkat to stay away for a while, I’m sure he’ll follow. Not to mention, uh.” Fuck, nevermind. Bad joke to the wrong, oblivious crowd. “Not to mention getting lost in a crowd is pretty easy.” Alright, fine save; he wasn’t about to expose Dave’s involvement with Karkat for the sake of a shitty joke, despite how real it might’ve been. 

“Is there a Facebook event for it?” 

“Of course. I’m linking it to you right now, just don’t respond to it. Like, don’t tell the world you’re going, obviously.” 

“C’mon, Dirk, I’m not that much of a knobhead.” 

“I have my doubts about that.” 

A scoff from Jake, but accompanied by a smile that flashed his round teeth and dug dimples into his cheeks. Handsome. If they weren’t in public, he would’ve probably done something about that, but, as it was, sitting across from Jake and staring at him had to be good enough. The subject changed, they talked of something else next, reminisced a little, told each other some of what they had been up to during these last three years, and left it at that; nothing too deep or emotional, just a nice, light-hearted conversation over lunch, stretched out to cover the walk back to campus, as well. 

Jake’s building was a lot closer to the west gate than his own, so they went there first, despite how much Jake told him that that wasn’t necessary, and that he didn’t want Dirk to be late for his own class. He wouldn’t be, and, anyway, he knew what this really was, but there was nothing romantic about two guys crossing the campus together, side-by-side, not even touching. Jake told him that he didn’t mind it, that that wasn’t his point, but it was. He knew it was, because what the fuck else could it have been? The world didn’t know. It was fine. He ignored Jake’s protests and walked him to the building, where some students were already walking in, while some others were still huddled up in little circles talking by the doors, hanging out before the next period. Jake bid him a see you later just as Jane Crocker spotted the two of them, standing nearby with her own group of friends, her eyes finding Jake’s face almost in an instant, bouncing over to Dirk next. Absently, he recalled Jake’s ramblings from earlier, how often he had paired up with Crocker for group projects, and how often they seemed to hang out together, as evidenced by that accidental encounter after lunch yesterday, where he had run into Jake, her, and a lot of the people that were standing around here right now. They must’ve been his friends. He didn’t leave just yet, though, standing a few feet away from Crocker and the others, watching her greet Jake with eyes that, for some reason, refused to leave pointy shades. 

“Hey, Jake.” Voice light and sweet as Jake walked over, but still not looking at him. “I see you’ve made amends with Strider.” 

His blood ran cold, suddenly, hands closed into fists; Jake had told her about that? How much did she know? This whole time, he had been under the impression that their business hadn’t leaked beyond the two of them, but he was obviously wrong. 

“Yes, in a rather fortunate turn of events. I believe we’re alright now.” Spoken as Jake glanced back around over to him, a sense of urgency on his face, on the way his eyebrows pinched together. He wasn’t welcome here. Unsurprising, really, because when had he ever been welcome amid Jake’s friends?, but it still stung. A wordless nod, and he granted Jake’s fervent wish to have him disappear and leave his friends alone. That was the kind of battle he’d only engage in after securing the situation between his family and Jake, and, if he played smart this time around, it wouldn’t end up pushing Jake further away from him, only to culminate in the severing of their friendship. Hopefully this time, he’d get to hang out with everybody else, too. 

After class, he was surprised to find Dave waiting for him outside, scrolling through his phone. They were clearly in the middle of a cold war, so what was this? Had Dave finally relented? In silence, he approached his brother and just kind of stood there, waiting for him to be done with whatever it was he was doing online. He could infiltrate Dave’s IP address to find out, but it didn’t matter that much. Dave soon leaned away from the wall, put his phone in a pocket, and glanced up at him, Ray-Bans to kaminas. 

“We’re taking a detour.” Dave explained, then started off for the car. He followed without a word to that, just in case it’d discourage Dave from saying anything else, but the subject seemed to have ended right there, anyway, because they got to the car, buckled up, and took off in absolute silence. He didn’t know where this detour would take them, but, watching Dave pull up at a drugstore close to home, he managed to get an idea of what was about to happen, and it didn’t feel very fun. Dave had the prescription from Saturday, which he had never really gone after, because they had ibuprofen at home, some ointment, and enough gauze to last a week or two. Plus, his bike was still wrecked, and no one was speaking to him. He supposed he could’ve taken the skateboard, if he really wanted to, but he’d probably have to realign it to his current weight before anything. He had put a lot on since high school, which was why he had started to workout in the first place. 

“I called a psychiatrist nearby.” Dave told him, still in the car, holding the prescription in both hands, sort of smoothed out over the wheel. “Her office is just a couple of blocks from here; I’ll send you the address later. You have an appointment tomorrow at four.” Here, Dave turned, so Ray-Bans would stare at him straight on. “If you fuck this up, I’m calling dad.” 

His heart punched him in the face. 

“I’ll be there, don’t worry. I’ll go.” 

At home, Dave was summoned upstairs right as they arrived, and really didn’t give him an explanation for that, just that he’d be back soon, kind of barring him from following. Clearly not suspicious at all, so, while Dave took the stairs, he tapped his phone. It was shitty, yeah, a breach of privacy and an actual crime etc., but, at this point, he’d take anything to know how Dave had been doing, or what had been going on with his cousins. He was always out of the loop, and, if it wasn’t for this kind of gross behavior, that would’ve never changed. He would’ve never stood in the hallway listening through Dave’s bedroom door if he had been invited inside with the rest of them. 

In the living room, standing by the archway that led to the rest of the house, he listened to the audio that Dave’s phone picked up, a bit muffled, but useful overall. It was a surprise to find Karkat there with everybody else, because the guy only seemed to hang out with Dave and whoever happened to be orbiting around Dave at the moment, so this was a first. Roxy cut to the chase and told him of their decision to let Jake come over, except with the one condition that Jake be watched at all times by one of them, which furrowed his brow, and had his chest constricting. How was that going to work? He didn’t know how that conclusion had been reached, or who had come up with it, but he had a feeling that Jake’s conversation with Roxy this morning might’ve had something to do with it; might’ve ignited it, somehow. His entire family, observing Jake all day; how well would that go? Not to their purposes, but to his own; could it be what they needed, the excuse for Jake to be close to the others and win them back? In actuality, that might’ve been just perfect. Maybe they wouldn’t even have to wait for Sub Rosa to shift their plan into first gear. 

Dave didn’t really react to Roxy’s idea, or had much of anything to say about it, called Karkat outside for a private meeting instead, and proceeded to get explicitly personal with him, confirming what Karkat had told him earlier today. Not that he hadn’t believed him, but still. Dave was worried that anyone knew about their involvement last night, classic freak out session right there, going haywire out of fear. He remembered his first weekend with Jake at the manor, and how crazy Jake had gone the following days, wide-eyed and shaky, wondering if he had told anyone about it. He hadn’t, not yet, because Dave still didn’t suspect anything, and how relieved Jake was at that, literally crumpling on top of him for a heavy hug. Much to Dave’s similar relief, his fears were unfounded, because, as it seemed, Dirk had been the only one who knew about it so far, but that Karkat had failed to mention, for some reason. What an honor. As Dave got mushy with Karkat right after that, he clicked the wire tap off and left for the garage. 

Hey, are you busy? There’s a lot to discuss. 

Currently, we’ve got a situation. There’s been a development since lunch. Remember how we had come to the consensus that spending more time with the others might wield us useful results? They seemed to have come to the same conclusion, except that those results would work against us instead. 

What do you think? 

I stand by my early decision, that this is only going to be beneficial to all of us, not just you and me, but I’d like to hear your two cents. Perhaps they’ll hound you so thoroughly that you’ll feel discouraged to remain in contact, but perhaps they’ll actually give you the time of day and will end up bonding with you during this experiment. We’ll never know until we try. 

Jake? 

God.

What is it? 

If they think closeness will only drive us apart then im not sure were on the right track here dirk. 

I mean what if their tricks go beyond that? It sounds too simple to be true. There must be something else up their sleeve some sort of way to catch me unawares and deal the damage that i deserve. 

It all just sounds too… Simple. Unfortunately. 

I understand your point of view, but, as I’ve said before, there’s only one way to disarm them, and that’s playing by their rules. 

Not the whole time, if cheating is more up your alley, but for now, until we can spy a weak spot in their calculations. At this point in time, the only weakness I can pinpoint is the fact that they don’t know we have an attack plan of our own, or what it is. They don’t even know I’m always one step ahead and already planning a counterattack to their newest machinations, which gives us an advantage. 

They plan to watch you the entire time you’re here. You’re invited to hang out, but that only means group hang outs, not one-on-ones. 

At least, not with me. With the others, maybe, which we might be able to use to our advantage. 

What if i invite you to come round instead? Do they have a counter for that? 

I’m not sure. Currently, my only means of transportation are the bus and a skateboard, so our odds in regards to that aren’t exactly in our favor. I could still go, but I have a feeling they’d sabotage my trip somehow, or at least try to. Our best bets are meeting up on campus in between periods, if your friend Jane Crocker doesn’t mind lending you for a few minutes at a time. 

Whats that supposed to mean? 

God are you already fucking jealous of her? Dirk goddammit. 

Heart skipping, face burning. 

I’ve never said that. In fact, I really am not. 

I know Jane. We took Sociology together last semester and defeated the entire class with our flawless reading of John Locke. Nobody else could even get close to our score. The professor was starting to develop a dissociative disorder just from watching us two rows away. 

With that said, should I be worried? 

No!

No you really shouldnt. Jane is a friend. Shes the one who filled me in right when i arrived on campus and told me all about who youve become. 

I knew you two knew each other already i suppose i just didnt realize it was from a group project.

That and a few other instances. She’s known for her end-of-the-semester speeches and her vows to make the campus a better place, which I usually help her with, but it’s not really anything. I wouldn’t even say she’s a friend. 

No one is a friend as long as youre concerned. 

Im unsure that youve been introduced to the concept at all at this point. 

You’re my friend. Am I incorrect in that assumption? 

No but youve got a lot more friends than you realize as well. 

I suppose thats my point. 

Does my newfound friendship with Crocker mean she will spend lunchtime with us from now on? 

Thats not how it works.

Regardless I believe youve got a much more pressing matter to attend to than janes friendship dont you? 

Whats the strategy when we inevitably find ourselves amid your cousins? What do i do then? 

Engage them in lighthearted conversation. 

Don’t be weird, don’t be emotional, and don’t bring up the past. Be chill, hang out, and try to re-establish contact without being too artificial about it. Try to be as natural as possible and be yourself. 

You know thats the kind of advice that never works right? 

Just fucking try it. That’s our best bet yet. 

As they texted, Dave reappeared downstairs, but didn’t stop a second. Instead, he crossed the living room straight for the car and took off without another word. Was he going back to Terezi’s? Had he even gone there at all yesterday? He didn’t know. At this point, he was the last one to know anything again, and should probably resort to his old tactics as a result; tracking Dave’s GPS signal anytime he left like that, tapping his phone when they closed the door on him, and hacking his call log to catch his lies. It sucked, but he wasn’t going to let the past replay right in front of his eyes without doing anything to stop it. He’d rather have Dave despise him than relive how their relationship used to be. Maybe then Dave would care. He should’ve tracked Dave’s GPS yesterday, too, when Jake was over, but he had still been playing nice then, following the rules like a fucking idiot; the only one still doing it. Currently, not even Dave had been abiding to it. Wasn’t he supposed to be on watch these days? 

Not long after, everybody else joined him downstairs, filling up the garage in a sort of human shield to keep him from reaching the door, for whatever reason. As if he’d run off when accompanied. It was pretty clear that they were here to give him the information that he had already gathered earlier, except omitting the part where Jake’s presence was only allowed inside while under scrutiny. He didn’t mind that; it didn’t change much, only confirmed the fact that they really didn’t trust him, and that the truth only reached him in parts. It hurt, but it was fine; the past was slowly catching up to him and choking him alive, but he’d get out of it a second time, if needed. He had managed the first time, and he’d do it again, heart beating, chest aching. Abiding by the new rules, he asked if Jake could come over, then, and they all agreed to it, shrugging loosely, except for Karkat, who had slowly been making it to the door this entire time, thinking himself unobserved. Everybody else caught onto that, and pretty much put him on the spot to explain his reasons for leaving, which were actually very valid; with Karkat sticking around, Jake wouldn’t be able to relax and bond with his old friends. Karkat left, and they all moved into the living room to hang out together; Rose put some music on, Roxy started a lighthearted discussion with John, and he brought a small project with himself, which had been put on hiatus since the crash, just to give the illusion of doing something other than texting Jake through the glasses. 

We’re all on the same page and you’re in the clear to stop by whenever, just be chill about it. 

They didn’t mention visiting hours, but will probably kick you out by the time dinner rolls around, so I wouldn’t wait too long to come over. 

If you’re busy, we can reschedule for tomorrow. 

No ill be there soon i just have to shower first. 

Alright. 

Rose joined the discussion eventually, an easy and friendly conversation about summer break and what they’d be doing then. The initial plan had been to go back to Houston and spend summer there, in their old houses, with his father and their old friends, which he didn’t feel strongly about, because he hadn’t really left any friends behind, and could very well spend the rest of his life without ever seeing his father again, but it mattered to the others, and he didn’t exactly mind going back for a couple of months if it made them happy. There was never anything to do during the summer, regardless of global location, so if the others wanted to be surrounded by old faces while lounging by the pool, then he’d follow them there. It was very clear in his mind that, by then, Jake will have graduated, and what he did next would be completely unpredictable, as well as his decision alone, and, yes, it was terrifying, but, also, uncontrollable. Uncontrollable if he didn’t take Jake up on overthrowing their dynamic and calling all the shots in the future, which was a little more than just tempting to do, but that he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do afterwards. There was no point in taking the throne if he had no plans for a successful government. 

A notification on the glasses, a text from Karkat through Facebook’s messaging app. Nasty and pretty vile, but probably Karkat’s only means of communication here. He had acquired Karkat’s number for Dave a while ago, but hadn’t really used it himself, which meant that Karkat probably didn’t have his number in return, so here they were, being thoroughly watched by the government a few lines at a time. Jake had apparently just scared the living Hell out of Karkat with an approach to talk, which had ended without an actual talk, because Jake was an absolute dumbass, and left him with the job to calm Karkat down. No, Jake wasn’t going to beat him up, and, no, he had nothing to worry about. With Karkat in one window, he texted Jake in the other. 

What do you need to talk to Karkat for? 

Of course he told you about that.

Saying “we need to talk” and then proceeding to not talk about what you so ominously need to talk about is just a recipe for anxiety. It’s actually the opposite of a message, like, it couldn’t have been worse, because now he’s going to worry about what he did wrong until you decide to talk to him again. 

Do not fucking do that. 

I just wanted him to have in mind that id like to discuss what happened! I didnt mean to freak him out or anything jesus. 

He’s already afraid of you, bro. Don’t give him a heart attack. 

Why would he be afraid of me? 

That’s not my business, just stop being cryptic. If you’d like to discuss something, then pull him aside and talk about it. Don’t make him freak out until you decide you’re free to talk. That’s just cruel. 

Are you sure this is still about him? 

A skip of the heart, and he minimized the window. In the other one, he addressed Karkat one last time.  

Since he’s expressed an interest in speaking to you, I advise that you take the opportunity to speak to him first. Use this opening to your advantage. 

I can let you know when he’s leaving, if you’d like to catch him unprepared. 

OK THAT SOUNDS GOOD. 

Stand by. 

When the doorbell rang, the entire room looked at him, as if patiently waiting for him to answer it. He hadn’t exactly been expecting that, supposing that one of them, possibly Roxy, would be prompt to pose as Jake’s first deterrent in the house instead of letting him welcome the guy in, but he was wrong, and got up, anyway. Pulling the door open, he glanced up at Jake on the porch and caught a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips a little, feeble and faltering, kind of half-hearted before Jake came in. His heart skipped; what was that? Did Jake not want to see him? Without a word, he watched the others greet Jake very nonchalantly and closed the door. Maybe Jake didn’t want to do this. 

“I realize there was a change of heart since last Sunday, and I’m quite honored to be among you lads once again. What’s changed?” Asked with green eyes fixed onto Roxy’s face, but that didn’t seem to have much of an impact on her, regardless. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.” 

“You’re right, I don’t, but it wouldn’t be fair to Dirk if I imposed my feelings on him, would it?” 

“I suppose not, but that’s never really stopped you before.” 

Pink eyes squinted, and his blood ran cold; fuck. Jake better not fucking start anything already. 

“A family needs to compromise if it wants to stay together. I’m only doing my part.” 

A look from Jake while taking a seat on the ground next to his half-finished decoy of a project, which he took as an invitation to sit down, as well, just not too close to him, but not suspiciously far, either; with the pile of scrap right between them. 

“I’m not trying to tear you apart, you know. I actually want the opposite of that.” 

“Do you? Do you really?” 

“Why, yes, of course I do. We used to be great friends.” 

“I just don’t understand your recent behavior, then, if that’s what you’ve been trying to do this whole time.” 

“Guys, maybe we can talk about something else.” John tried, but was quickly smothered by Jake, who spoke much louder than him. 

“What recent behavior? I’ve been nothing but cordial to you!” A scoff from Roxy as Jake continued. “What are you referring to, then? How have I so deeply wronged you, Roxy?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me, man; you know exactly what you did, and this clueless act just doesn’t cut it anymore. We’re not sixteen.” 

“I’ve reached out to you. I’ve apologized. I came here to make amends with you and move forward, but you won’t let me. You don’t want to move forward; it’s clear you’d rather remain stuck to the idea you’ve got of who I was in high school instead. I’m trying to show you who I am now, but you’re not interested.” 

“I’m not interested because you haven’t changed!” 

“Okay, Roxy, hey--” John again, touching her on the arm, but being swatted away. 

“You’re still the same coward we used to know, going behind our backs to fuck around with Dirk, unable to take responsibility for your actions, unresponsive to criticism, shady as hell and a big fat liar. I don’t like you, and I don’t trust you.” 

“Jesus, Roxy; it’s been four damn years. Do you really think I haven’t changed one bit? Do you really think I’m the exact same dickhead you knew in high school?” 

“So far, you haven’t given me a reason to believe otherwise.”

“Alright, well, I suppose that’s fair, since you don’t really know what I’ve been up to.” A pause, and Jake glanced off to the side, almost thoughtful. The room watched him in silence for once, without Roxy immediately antagonizing him, and actually giving him a chance to explain himself. 

“In the first year of college, I was alone pretty much all the time. There was nobody to pick up after me, and no one to blame for my own shortcomings; my grades were fine, but that was about it. I had no friends, because I treated them all like shit, and they had no reason to stick around. The ones who did were worse than me, and I’m not completely clueless; when you’re surrounded by knobheads that double-cross you at every turn, you start to realize it’s because you’re one of them. Relationships only lasted about three weeks, because it was never really about her, just how she looked next to me. New friends put a lot of faith in me, but that never lasted long, and, after a while, there was nobody left to talk to. I was extremely selfish and I realize that now. People don’t exist solely to mean something to me.” 

Here, Jake glanced up at Roxy, holding the stare. There was a light softness on her face now, the resemblance of sympathy in her eye, although her eyebrows remained deeply furrowed, jaw set hard. 

“I’m sorry for treating our friendship like you were the supporting cast of a movie. Like you were replaceable, and not as important as I was. Being apart from all of you showed me how wrong I was, and how much I had lost.” Movement, and Jake turned to look at him next, making him glance away out of instinct, heart skipping a beat. “I’ve never told you this, but, last year, I dated a girl called Emily. We were together for five months. By then, I was self-aware enough to know that she wasn’t with me as the pretty love interest, but as somebody who believed in what I was capable of; that our relationship wasn’t just a show-off item, but a system of mutual support, where we leaned on each other to grow together. She saw a lot in me, and I saw a lot in her, too, but not in the same way as she did. You know, you grow up, and your priorities change, and everything is suddenly very serious, and you start seeing the world as it sees you, too. The connection I had with her was strong, but it’d never get any stronger, and I knew she wanted way more than I could give her.” 

“Did you break up with her?” Rose asked, making Jake turn to look at her in response. 

“Yes. It wouldn’t be fair to give her hopes for something that wouldn’t happen.” 

“How considerate. I wish you’d thought of us when you contacted Dirk without us knowing.” Roxy chimed in, sharp. 

“I did, actually. I never meant to get back into old habits, I just wanted to mend what we used to have. The only real friendships I’ve ever had.” 

“What a crock of shit. You would’ve approached us the same way you approached him, if that was really what you wanted.” 

“I didn’t know how! I was afraid you’d shut me out like everybody else had; like how you’re doing right now!” 

“But you knew exactly how to talk to him, somehow.” 

“Not exactly, but I had to do something. I had to reach you guys somehow, and I knew that if I couldn’t even reason with my best friend, then I had no chance with anybody else.” 

“Best friend.” Roxy mused, leaning back on her seat, pink eyes sharp. “Almost sounds like you had no intention of sleeping with him then.” 

His heart sped, his face caught on fire, and he couldn’t look at them anymore, staring off to the side instead, down where the couch in front of him met with the floor and crushed the corner of the rug. 

“Well, not initially; I’m not so self-assured that I thought he’d take me back just like that. I wanted to get back into speaking terms, at the very least, but we were drunk, and, anyway, that’s something else. I wanted to be friends with all of you again; that’s why I even talked to him at all.” 

“Do you believe in this shit, Dirk?” Harsh and loud, putting him on the spot, making him glance up to see the room stare back at him, everyone’s attention touching his skin like fire. 

“Yeah, actually. I do.” 

“Has he really changed?” 

His pulse raced loudly in his ears, blood pumping through him like ice; he didn’t know the answer to that. Realistically, yeah, Jake had probably changed and become a much more mature man in these last few years, but, somehow, he couldn’t fully trust that. Jake hadn’t really done anything to warrant suspicion since his return, and perhaps that was what tipped him off the most, because he wasn’t expecting that sort of sincerity out of Jake. The Jake that he knew lied and tricked and put himself first, but if he had really changed, then of course this new self would feel off and different, almost like a ripped off version of the past, or a distrustful version of who he wanted Jake to be. Reason was one thing, and gut feeling was something else; for as much as he wanted to believe that and trust this new Jake with his entire soul, he just couldn’t. Leaps of faith only worked with someone who had never been dropped. 

“Yeah, he has.” Reason over feeling, because any other answer would’ve discouraged the others from accepting Jake back into the inner circle, even if he didn’t feel it in his gut, even if he refused to lean back and hope to get caught. 

Jake was staring at him; he could feel the intense burning of his attention on the side of his face, but decided against looking directly on and getting scorched. 

Conversation died for a minute there, as Roxy crossed her arms and vetoed an answer, or really any input of her opinion on the matter, because, clearly, she still thought it was all bullshit. Knowing her, this had just been a loyalty test that he had failed, much to no one’s surprise, even if he had straight up lied. The fact was that he had sided with Jake on this one, and that was reason enough to piss her off. In all truth, he understood that; she wasn’t wrong in the slightest. Pink eyes watched him for a moment, scrutinizing him, burning him at the stake, then moved away, over to her phone screen; phone up to indicate abandonment of discussion. It was fine; John quickly picked up the slack and asked Jake what he’d be doing over the summer just to get him talking, just to get something else going. Jake told him that he still didn’t know, but would like to visit his grandparents for a while, even if briefly. Much to John’s delight, that aligned kind of perfectly with their plans to return to Houston as well, although he refrained from inviting Jake to the road trip, since Roxy was sitting right there. It was on his face just how much he wanted to do it but morally couldn’t. At least, not without getting an earful later, and maybe separate rooms; Dirk wasn’t sure, these two had been specially coy about their non-relationship these days. Whatever worked. 

They talked of summer, Houston, their respective families, and what Jake would be doing after college. Jake wasn’t sure yet, but his guess was that his grandfather would give him a job at the company at some point, so he’d probably be filing documents and watching meetings for a long time. John thought that that was pretty neat, while Rose despised the idea and would rather take up teaching; she wasn’t sure where yet, but just hoped it wouldn’t involve teenagers. Dirk gave them his two cents on the topic as well, that a career seemed very limiting, and he’d probably feel stifled in one. Well, wouldn’t he like to work for a big company building computers, or cars, or even planes? No, he’d like to stay home and build things himself. A company would take away his creative process. Rose understood that and agreed completely, while John expressed interest in working in a group to achieve something big. Jake wasn’t sure what he wanted yet, but probably wouldn’t have a choice, anyway; he was only even taking Business for his grandfather. That was silly; he could do whatever he wanted. It was his future, not his grandfather’s. No, that wasn’t how it worked in his family. At that, John changed the topic. 

Eventually, Roxy came around, and fell back into conversation with the rest of them, talking about food and movies and music without getting violent. She still mostly ignored Jake when he talked and didn’t really look at him, but it was an improvement from absolute silence. They joked, fucked around, and laughed almost like how they used to, but with a huge part of the family missing, which felt like a hole punched through the hull of a ship, because Dave had been the one who had started everything. 

Dave had befriended Jake first, and chosen most of the other members from high school as well, starting this elitist sort of hang out group in the first place, ultimately deciding on whether new members brought in by the rest of the family were welcome or not. Dave had hand-picked his friends and let his cousins be part of it all, walking into his room and shutting the door on Dirk’s face, but only until Jake jumped out and pulled him in. Thinking back, that had been the only instance when a non-family member had brought somebody else in, and which that person had ultimately been allowed to stay, even if they all thought it was kind of bizarre, even if Jake’s friendship with him had always been looked upon with a sort of grimace on the face. He remembered being in his father’s house, sitting on the floor by the bed, tinkering with a project or other while the door was open, half of his attention on the talk and laughter echoing down the hallway, half of it back at the pile of junk in his hands. The door to Dave’s bedroom would open, the group would walk out, and, a short while later, Jake would come in, knocking on the doorframe to announce his presence and make him look up, see the smile on his face, green eyes bright. Jake would lower his voice and ask him about the little robot in his lap just to make conversation while letting himself inside, coming in to sit next to him with his back leaning against the bed frame. They would talk; he’d explain what he had been building, Jake would make a remark or two on his intellect, flatter him, and reach for the robot just to brush his hand, fingertips running along his arm, shivers up to his neck. Jake would touch his face, whisper something, and lean over for a kiss. 

Executing a few programs on the glasses, he tracked Dave’s GPS signal, half-expecting to find him either in a random suburban area, or maybe a dorm just by campus grounds, but, instead, he found Dave near a park. Not in it, but near it, in what the satellite view informed him was an open parking lot, so Dave must’ve been in the car, just parked there, but doing what? On his phone, probably, although he couldn’t intercept Dave’s messages with the current rig, and did he even want to? This was enough breach of privacy already. Dave wasn’t with Terezi, and he wasn’t with Karkat, either; a wider reading told him that there wasn’t a close enough phone signal to him that could’ve been inside the car, as well, so Dave was alone, sitting in a parking lot. He disconnected from Dave’s phone and let himself feel like shit for it. What would Dave think about missing out on a group hang with everybody else? Right now, he probably didn’t give a fuck. 

A little after seven, Roxy mentioned something about making dinner, which was Jake’s cue to leave, and one that he didn’t purposefully miss. Easily, he got up from the floor, thanked everybody for the great time, and asked Dirk to walk him to the door, despite the fact it was a mere few feet away. He had a feeling that it wasn’t about that, and agreed right on the spot, towing after Jake the short distance across the living room. Much to their surprise, everybody else followed, too, hanging around him like a sort of protection squad, or bodyguards to a celebrity, smiling and grinning as if that was super normal behavior and not awkward at all. Jake briefly glanced at the others, then looked at him with the face of a man on the verge of laughter, and he could feel his own cheeks want to grin at it, but only managed to suppress about half of the urge, because five people crowding a door was absolutely ridiculous, and Jake was just about losing it right in front of him. They sure did mean it when they said that Jake would be closely watched the entire time he were here, huh. 

Pulling the door open, he bid Jake goodnight, and had the bodyguards around him choir their own goodbyes in return, as Jake stepped outside, but still stood suspiciously close to him, watching the others with a big fat grin on his face, dimples digging into his cheeks. Jake was about to do something stupid, and his heart fluttered for it; eyebrows bouncing with his interest. A brief goodbye to the family, and green eyes found his face next, one step too close, Jake way into his personal space by now. His heart punched him in the throat when Jake leaned down to kiss him, heavy, a hand behind his neck to hold him in it, to keep the force of it from pushing him back too much, teeth on his lips and cheeks burning, his own eyes closed to the crowd that watched them speechless. He grabbed Jake’s neck out of instinct, feeling the skin of his face melt away and his pulse choke him breathless, successful at absolutely nothing, but having Jake pull back a moment later, grin back on, brighter, wider, now directed solely at him. Breath filled him up like nails in a jar. 

“See you tomorrow, Dirk.” Practically whispered before Jake took a step back and pulled the door shut, locking himself out. 

One blink, two, and he turned around to see wide eyes and hanging jaws, three different but equally textbook expressions of absolute, pure shock staring right at him. For the first time in his life, he felt similarly to the others, and swiftly excused himself out of the room. He needed some space to breathe. 

What the fuck was that? You deviated from the plan. 

Did you like it? 

No response to that. Instead, he took the glasses off and locked himself in the bathroom for a long, long shower. 


	17. How many faces to a dodecahedron?

The agreement was that Dirk would text him whenever Jake left for the building, but, because that never happened, he thought that Jake had slept over, and went to bed himself. No need to worry himself sick if the guy wasn’t even showing up. In the morning, after showering and getting ready, he left the room to the loud conversations of his roommates and a surprisingly delicious smell that he couldn’t immediately recognize. It was definitely human food, he could tell that much, and, even though he had never really been super interested in it before, this one really got to him, for whatever reason. Everyone was out here at this hour, crowding the place, going back and forth in their attempts at a morning routine, which, on a normal day, would’ve been enough to make him want to book it downstairs as quickly as possible for an inch of personal space and some fresh air, but his lungs filled up, and his mouth watered, and he was just curious to know what they were making. Just curious! No ill intent, although, if no one happened to be looking, it wouldn’t hurt if he took a piece or a slice for himself, whatever it was. It was crowded, and warm, and loud, but, for the first time since moving out of his mother’s house, he pushed through the crowd for the kitchen instead of simply running off to campus. 

Out of everybody who lived here, the only person that he didn’t expect to see in front of the oven was Jake. In fact, the sight struck him in place and marbleized him with a nice, shiny finish coat worthy of a statue as he stood just like one, staring at Jake from the kitchen door. In a pan were sausages, and in another was bacon; the mixed up meat smells with beans was the reason why he couldn’t rightfully identify them. The eggs looked nice, and so did the meat, but the beans really threw him off, because who had beans for breakfast? That was fucking bizarre. He knew that Jake wasn’t from around here, but still; who would do that? One step backwards, a feeble attempt at escaping, and Jake turned to look straight at him, a slight scowl quickly furrowing his brows together in response. Great. Wasn’t he supposed to have the upper hand for this conversation? Trusting Dirk had been a mistake. 

“Morning, Karkat.” Flat and dull, almost emphasizing just how joyless seeing him right now really was. “Have a seat and help yourself.” 

Okay, well, at least he was being invited, and didn’t have to steal anything. Taking the invitation was a bad idea, of course; that was explicitly clear in his mind, but he had been rehearsing a couple of different speeches last night just for this, and wouldn’t let them go to waste now. Better to get this done and over with as quickly as possible than worry over it any longer, so he took a seat at the counter, pulled up a plate, and filled it with eggs and meat, no beans; he was a troll, not a complete lunatic. Across the counter, Jake finished cooking the rest of his breakfast, put together a plate, and brought down two tea cups from a nearby cabinet. Really? He filled them both with some dark tea and took a seat. If Karkat hadn’t been stuffing his face this entire time, he would’ve thanked him, and also told him to switch the tea out for some juice, but it was fine. Jake seemed very confident in all of this. 

“Before we start, I just want to apologize for scaring you last night. I really didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s chill.” He mumbled, still working through a mouthful. 

“Alright, wonderful. Now that that’s out of the way, I’d like to inform you that you’re an absolutely dodgy twat!” Oh, shit, okay. Starting early; here we go. “I can’t believe how much of a bloody con artist you are, man! What did I ever do to you?” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I suck, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong and I fucked you over anyway. I’m a piece of shit, I know; I’m sorry.” 

“I sincerely thought you were interested in making friends with me. That you actually needed my help and was being nice when inviting me to that death trap. Do you know the damage you did with that? Do you know the problems you’ve caused?” 

“Probably not. I mean, Dirk’s been so efficient at fixing everything that I probably don’t even know the half of it.” 

“Dirk? You really think  _ he’s _ the one cleaning up your mess?” 

“Um. Yeah, that’s what he said.” 

Dark brows lifted in surprise, a look of shock on Jake’s face. Shit, had he just thrown Dirk under the bus? Goddammit. 

“Is that right?” 

“Uh, no, actually. Probably not. I don’t know; I just assumed as much. I’m honestly, like, really out of the loop here. I don’t even know why everybody hates you.” 

One deep exhale, almost exasperated, but Jake’s shoulders dropped a little, and the lines on his face softened. Good. In silence, Jake took his tea cup and brought it up for a sip, quiet, contemplating. He stared down into the cup while Karkat continued to stuff his face. For as shitty of a person as Jake was, he grilled some great meat, and Karkat didn’t even like meat. 

“That’s a long story, mate. I used to be a major dick.” 

“Honestly, in high school, who wasn’t?” 

“No, I was actually awful, and they resent a lot of what I did, but that’s not worth getting into. You don’t need to know who I used to be.” 

Okay, should he chance it, then? Should he just go for it and ask? Logically, there was nothing stopping him right now, and rock bottom left him with nothing to lose, so, yeah; yeah, he was just going to do it, no looking back. Whatever, fuck it. 

“Were you violent? Like, did you hurt someone? Maybe punched Dirk in the face?” 

“What? No! Golly, no; of course not! We sparred, yes, but that was different; it was training. I’ve never hurt anyone like that.” 

“Then why are they so afraid of you?” 

A look on Jake’s face, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What do you mean, afraid of me? Who told you that?” 

Um. Shit, should he confide in Jake right now? He didn’t think that he had ever really talked about this with anybody, because there wasn’t anyone to talk with that wasn’t involved in this whole mess, but maybe Jake had some sort of insight for him; an insider look into the situation from the outside. It had already been proven that Jake was a great source of information regarding the Strilondes, so maybe they could rekindle that manufactured friendship and turn it into something real, if only a little bit. If only for just right now. One foot already dangled over his grave; might as well take the leap. He had come so far, anyway. 

“Nobody had to tell me, because I saw it for myself. They knew you were in town, but still avoided you like the plague, but why? If they were just kind of pissed off and didn’t really want to see you, they wouldn’t go to such lengths to avoid you, and I mean  _ lengths, _ like, cancelling parties and leaving places early. It was real.” 

“Well, in truth, we were all sort of dancing around each other. They probably didn’t know what to say to me, either.” 

“No, they were going around you hard, man; moving mountains to keep Dirk from spotting your ass and everything, except things only work out if Dirk wants them to, and I don’t particularly believe that he wanted to be away from you as much as the others did.” 

“Clearly, they still don’t want anything to do with me, and I understand that. They’re not at fault here.” 

“What did you do?” The million-dollar question. 

“I walked away. I cut all ties, broke Dirk’s heart, and walked away like a proper wanker. What can I say? They’re right not to want to talk to me.” 

“Is that it?” That couldn’t be right. “Are you sure you didn’t do something worse than that? Because, yeah, that sounds pretty bad; don’t get me wrong, but the way they talked about you, man, it felt like you were a demon or something, like you had killed one of them. I thought you were a horrible person from what they told me.” 

“I suppose leaving the way I did really hurt.” 

“Okay, sure, but that can’t be it. I mean, friends walk out all the time and people get their hearts broken everyday; there must be something else. There must be something bigger going on.” 

Green eyes squinted, taking what he said into careful consideration, the liquid of Jake’s cup stirring. 

“If you’re right, I’m afraid I can’t think of anything worse than that. I admit that I’ve sort of been leaning in the same direction here myself, wondering if there really wasn’t something else in the works, but I haven’t the slightest idea of what it could be.” 

“Dirk didn’t tell you anything?” 

“No; he’s very intent on believing his family’s fragile emotions and deep grudges. Maybe he isn’t aware of it, either.” 

“Or maybe it’s a secret.” 

They stared at each other. In that moment of silence, a revelation was shared and an understanding was reached. 

“Don’t let them know what we’re thinking.” 

“I’d rather not jeopardize my chances with them, so you can be quite sure that I will not be speaking of this at all.” 

“Don’t bring it up with Dirk, either; he might be in on it.” 

“Or he might be a valuable asset to this investigation.” 

“And risk getting found out? I think that’s unnecessary. You said that he probably doesn’t even know anything, anyway.” 

“Yes, but he might’ve borne witness to what happened without realizing it. He was only sixteen, after all.” 

“He was only sixteen when what?” 

“When the breakup took place.” 

“Do you think that’s when the big thing happened, too?” 

“Well, I can’t think of a more opportune moment than that. It was the last time we saw each other, after all.” 

Huh. 

“What makes you so sure that the big thing happened when you were still around? Maybe you had already left. I mean, do you know what they did during this time apart? They all enrolled in college together; did you know that? What made Dave stand around for a whole year before enrolling?” 

“Not just him, but Roxy, too. Why, I wasn’t aware of that at all. Perhaps you’ve got a point there.” 

“Everybody enrolled with Rose. Or, at least, when she was supposed to; Dave and Roxy waited around for a year while Dirk graduated early somehow. Did he tell you that?” 

“No, but I’m honestly not too surprised; he’s always been an incredibly bright man.” A pause, and Jake put his cup back down. “Perhaps they just wanted to enroll together and we’re blowing it all out of proportion, mate.” 

“If it was that simple, why didn’t they just wait for Dirk, then? Why did he have to take leaps to join the others instead?” 

“Truthfully, Karkat, my boy, that’s always been the case. Dirk’s never quite been part of the group. Consideration for him has always been rather low.” 

“Really?” That was so fucked up to think about. On campus, the face of the Strilondes were Dirk and Roxy; he couldn’t even picture the family without him. “Why?” 

“I’m sure they didn’t do it on purpose; it’s only that he’s younger than the rest. The difference is small, and takes no precedence in adulthood; whether you’re twenty or twenty-two doesn’t matter, but when you’re fourteen and in high school, you don’t see your twelve-year-old little brother as being on the same maturity level as you.” 

“Well, you clearly don’t think of him that way.” 

“No, I met him at thirteen, and, anyway, I don’t have any brothers myself.” 

“All sisters?” 

“I’m afraid not. What about you?” 

“Both, but we’re not close. Troll development is different.” 

“I see.” Picking up the silverware, Jake finally started to have his breakfast, poking into the eggs, mixing the beans with the meat. Karkat was actually pretty much done, so he tried the tea to wash it all down with, and, uh. If it wasn’t for his hastiness to eat and drink like an absolute animal, he probably would’ve spit it all out, because this shit was kind of disgusting; bitter, pungent. The taste was so strong that it seemed to cling to his tongue. Setting the cup back down, he scraped his tongue on the roof of his mouth. 

“How do you suppose we uncover this one?” Jake continued, except speaking between bites, as not to talk with his mouth full. Karkat wasn’t like that at all. 

“Maybe you could try talking to Dirk and I’ll try Dave. Just don’t make it too obvious, or they’ll notice something’s going on. Especially Dirk, from what I’ve been told.” 

“Oh? What were you told?” 

“That he’s always suspicious and notices everything. You’ve been warned.” 

“That’s quite a development. He’s always been clever, but not that observant. I suppose time matures all.” 

“I guess so.” 

A pause while Jake tasted the sausage with the bacon, all scooped up together with the beans. Nasty ass. He felt himself grimace at the sight, watching Jake in much the same way that people watch car crashes or trains derailing; uncomfortable and stiff, but almost fascinated. Resting his forearms on the edge of the counter, Jake turned to look at him. 

“How do I know you’re not going to double-cross me again, Karkat?” 

Oh, shit. Pertinent question. 

“Because I want to figure this whole shit out as much as you do.” And because Dave hadn’t told him to do anything nefarious with Jake this time, but he wasn’t about to throw Dave under the bus, despite having received the same treatment himself. He was better than that. He was better than Dave. “I’ve been in the dark for too goddamn long.” 

“That can be rather upsetting, I’ve heard.” A brief pause as Jake continued to eat, pushing beans on eggs and toast. As entrancing as it was, he was starting to feel legitimately sick at this point, and decided not to watch anymore, eyes out at the kitchen door instead, where their roommates hurried back and forth, carrying bags and tying shoes. “Aren’t you Dave’s right-hand man? Why wouldn’t he fill you in on the goings-on of the family?” 

“Because I’m not  _ in _ the family, idiot. Whatever happened isn’t talked about, but Dave and Dirk are both right in the middle of it. If nobody else was involved, I know that at least the two of them were.” That cryptic phone call with Dave late Saturday night, asking for his help with something, trying to explain the situation but not really saying anything coherent about it; there was something else there, right below the surface, which had fucked Dirk up pretty much irreversibly, from what he could tell, and had Dave kind of scrambling to keep it all under control. “Dirk can’t be alone for some reason. Like, they won’t let him just chill in his room without somebody around to watch him the whole time. Did you know that?” 

“Huh. No, I wasn’t quite aware.” 

“Is he dangerous? You know him better than I do. Do you think he could hurt someone?” 

“In all honesty, Karkat, he’s changed a lot since I last saw him, so what I think he is or isn’t capable of, by now, is deeply outdated. He’s grown and matured into a proper man in this meantime, but, if it’s of any use to you, the Dirk that I used to know would never lay a finger on anybody, even if pushed to do it. We used to argue a lot and it’d get pretty violent very often, but never to the point of us actually hurting each other. There were our sparring sessions, of course, where we absolutely didn’t hold back, but that was never in ill will. We were simply enjoying ourselves.” 

“Well, if they’re not afraid of something that he might do, then maybe they’re keeping him away from something instead.” A blink. “Maybe they’re keeping him away from you.” 

“Unsurprising, and, if I may speak openly, that seems a bit suffocating, as well. To be locked away in one’s room and guarded like a prison. If that’s truly the case, then I’m not sure why he hasn’t simply run off yet.” 

“You make a good point.” So maybe that wasn’t it, either. Dammit; every thought and supposition seemed to circle right back to the beginning and never really get anywhere, or even gather enough material to flesh itself out into useful information. Honestly, he was kind of lost here. “I guess our best bet is still trying to make them talk. Can you do that?” 

“I’ll give it my all.” 

“Cool. Then, I guess I’m gonna go.” Spoken as he got up from his seat, plate empty, tea cup practically full. “And again, I’m sorry for treating you like shit. That was fucked up of me.” 

“Yes, it surely was, but I’m giving you one last chance to redeem yourself. Don’t disappoint me.” 

“Don’t expect too much.” 

It was only halfway through the first period, when he checked his phone for a distraction from class, that he realized Dirk had actually texted him last night, a little after nine. That was useless to him now, but why hadn’t he seen it then? Had he fallen asleep  _ before _ nine? Jesus Christ, he was turning into a grandpa, then, if he had really checked out that fucking early. Next thing he knew, he’d be getting up before sunrise to sweep the front porch and watch the street. Damn. It was really hard staying up all night now, or even just being home alone without Dave to text and call. What used to be his favorite thing to do had suddenly become very unappealing when compared to sleeping on Dave’s couch and having breakfast with him every other morning. It still wasn’t the worst thing in the world, because he actually enjoyed spending time alone, but not sharing memes with Dave was difficult, and not hearing his voice every night was actually heartbreaking. 

Absently, he pulled up Dave’s contact and sent him a small text, just to stay in touch, just to make sure Dave wasn’t trying to push him away too much. Wondering where they’d have lunch today, and if Dave was eating with everybody else this time around. It was seen pretty much instantly, but not replied to on the spot. Staring at the screen, he watched Dave go offline instead of answering. That cut through him like a knife, but it was fine; Dave must’ve been busy. He was in class, after all. Feeling his heart pound, he locked his phone and pushed it under the desk, squeezed in both of his hands. Fuck. 

No, that wouldn’t get to him. He told himself that he wouldn’t let it get to him, because Dave was busy, even if occasionally sneaking glances at his phone, and he probably didn’t even know where the others would be eating, anyway. How could he get back to Karkat with no information? Sure, he could’ve said that he didn’t know, like he had done a few times before, or redirected him to one of his cousins again, but maybe he didn’t want to do it this time, and maybe he still hadn’t figured out whether he was going to join his family or not. It was all circumstantial; it didn’t mean that Dave was ignoring him. He didn’t have any hard proof of that, and was probably just overreacting. It was fine. 

First period ended, other periods followed, and still nothing from Dave. He must’ve been sorting things out with the others. From classroom to classroom, from professor to professor, and nothing. Online, offline, online, offline, and lunch was fifteen minutes away. Maybe Dave had forgotten to get back to him. A good friend would send something to jog his memory, so he did; just a little nothing to make Dave’s phone ping. Message read, and Dave began typing. He held his breath. 

im pretty sure theyre going to taco bell but im good on that one 

Okay, good to know, so maybe he was having lunch at the on-campus cafeteria then, or maybe somewhere else. Would he be alone? Better yet, would Pyrope be involved? He wouldn’t ask, and probably shouldn’t even say anything else just in case Dave didn’t want to hear from him right now, but his fingers itched, and his pulse raced, and he needed to say something. Not anything in particular, just send something; a meme, a video, a picture of a dog in a pool of spaghetti, a cat’s birthday party, bunnies running around on a trampoline, anything; shooting the shit like they used to do, blowing up each other’s phones with absolute garbage that made his day every single time and had him looking forward to it. He opened up his gallery and started going through the pictures there, searching for a good one to share with Dave, something that would make him laugh. No, no, no, maybe. A cute puppy yawning? That wasn’t funny. Two idiots dressed up like toy bears scaring other people at a Target? Perfect. Just as he tapped on the video, a text from Dirk dropped down in his notifications bar, possibly as God’s way of giving him a second chance. He tapped on it knowing full well that he wasn’t going to listen. 

I’ve been informed that you and Jake are on speaking terms again, no bad blood involved. How does that feel? I told you he wouldn’t do anything stupid. I take it you at the very least apologized. 

YES, WE’RE COOL NOW. IF HE PULLS A FAST ONE WHILE I’M ASLEEP, THOUGH, THEN I PROBABLY HAD IT COMING, TO BE HONEST. DON’T CRY AT MY FUNERAL. 

I’ll make a playlist for it as a symbol of our alliance. That way, your fans will at least weep to awesome beats while your body catches on fire. 

Do you have plans for lunch? 

DO NOT ASK ME OUT. 

I already have a suitor, sorry. Maybe if you started working out a little? I suppose we could talk then, but no promises. 

SHOOTING TO PIN-POINT MY INSECURITIES HUH? WHAT A DICK FUCKING MOVE. KEEP TRYING.  

BY THE WAY YOUR TYPE IS SO FUCKING BASIC. I MEAN WORKING OUT, REALLY? THAT’S *IT*? LIKE THAT’S THE CUT?? THE BAR IS WAY TOO LOW. 

The bar is actually so high I almost resorted to manufacturing my own line of synthetic lovers, but you nipped that right in the bud. I could’ve been a millionaire, and I realize that, but will be the bigger man and not sue you for monetary compensation. 

Can I trust you to cover for me? 

FOR WHAT? 

WAIT STOP TYPING DON’T ANSWER THAT 

I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN BUT LISTEN. JUST BECAUSE MY RELATIONSHIP WITH JAKE IS CURRENTLY IN INTERNATIONAL WATERS DOESN’T MEAN I WANT TO SEE HIM EAT UNSALTED BEANS ON A LARGE PIECE OF TOAST FOR AN ENTIRE HOUR JUST SO YOU CAN GRAB HIS LEG UNDER THE TABLE AND PRETEND WE’RE NOT IN PUBLIC. HE MAKES ME SICK. 

Sounds like you’d rather tie an anchor to your feet and sink instead. I actually have a different proposal, because I’m not completely insane yet. 

Have lunch with Dave for me. If anybody asks, you’re having lunch with me, and he’s off with Terezi. 

DO YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO BE YOUR ACCOMPLICE AFTER SIDING WITH YOUR COUSINS YESTERDAY? 

ANYWAY I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF HE WANTS TO SEE ME TODAY. 

What I expect is for you to not pass up on a good deal, or are you not interested in spending some alone time with Dave? I know he’s been all over the place these days, but as the one who scattered him in tiny pieces, maybe you could put him back together, too. If anybody can, it has got to be his favorite boy, right? 

I simply don’t see how I could be wrong about that. 

OKAY EVERYTHING YOU JUST SAID IS PROBLEMATIC. 

FIRST OF ALL, IT’S NOT *ALONE* TIME IF WE’RE SURROUNDED, ASSHOLE. I’M NOT LIKE YOU AND I WON’T REACH UNDER THE TABLE FOR HIM. 

SECOND, FAVORITE BOY??? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN FAVORITE BOY?? 

He’s never been with a boy before, ergo you’re his favorite boy. It’s a matter of fact, try to keep up. 

OH COMING UP WITH MORE FRESH MATERIAL FOR YOUR STAND-UP COMEDY SHOW? KEEP WORKING ON IT. 

DOES HE EVEN KNOW ABOUT YOUR STUPID FUCKING COVER-UP PLAN? 

Why would I have contacted him and set this whole thing up before making sure you’d be down for it? 

BECAUSE OF COURSE I’D BE DOWN FOR IT DUMBASS!!!

I don’t take risks. Ask him out yourself. 

Shit. Goddammit, how was he even going to do that? Dave clearly wanted to be left alone, just based on how disinterested he had seemed about his family’s business and drama yesterday, his little brother included, as well as the way he had just run off at the first opportunity there, probably right into Pyrope’s arms.  _ If he was with her, then that only meant he’d be with you later; _ his only consolation, a constant reminder, the one thing that kept his heart beating calmly, because it had been very true so far, right in line with everything else that Dirk had ever said. At this point, he had a feeling that inviting Dave out to lunch would just piss him off, if he didn’t already have plans with Pyrope, anyway. On second thought, though, it was just a question. Would asking really be that terrible? And if it did piss Dave off, and if he did already have plans with Pyrope, would his bad mood spoil their time together? A skip of the heart, and he kind of wanted to do it now. Would it strain their friendship, or would she like him like that? He sincerely wanted to find out, and, switching over to Dave’s chat window, he saw him still online. If this didn’t work, then he’d just have lunch by himself again, how he used to do before hanging out with these guys, and he’d still cover for Dirk if anybody asked. Dirk’s plans had no reason to suffer from his own viciousness. It was an experiment. He tapped on the funny video from before and finally sent it. There. 

getting lit in teddy bear costumes and terrorizing the customers with sick ass moves? sign me up bro 

His heart skipped. Alright, so maybe he wasn’t annoying Dave after all. 

do you think the customers who are just like shopping nearby but not in that aisle dont realize somethings wrong if theyre hearing people scream every fifteen minutes 

like youre picking some onions for tonights dinner and you hear a scream and youre like alright thats weird but its probably nothing 

a while later youre grabbing some solo cups for timmys birthday this weekend and you hear another scream but from a distinctively different person coming from the same corner of the store like yeah thats a little weirder theres something going on there for sure

by the third scream if you dont just drop everything and run the fuck out of the store you probably just want to get jumped 

TO BE HONEST IF YOU SEE A HUGE SLUMPED UP BEAR ON THE GROUND OF THE PRODUCE SECTION AND *DON’T* THINK THAT’S WEIRD THEN THAT ONE IS TOTALLY ON YOU. 

what if youre just going about your business but every new aisle you go into has a slumped up bear in it 

like a human sized one but its not looking at you its not even turned in your direction its just kind of there 

AND IT’S ALWAYS IN A CORNER LEANING AGAINST A SHELF UNTIL IT ISN’T. 

YOU GO FROM FISH TO MEAT AND IT’S SITTING RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE THIS TIME. SITTING UP STRAIGHT AND ACTUALLY LOOKING AT YOU. 

ok ima screenwrite this real quick get back to me in twenty-five years to sue me for the royalties ill refuse to share with you 

I’LL TRADE FUTURE ROYALTIES FOR LUNCH IF YOU DON’T ALREADY HAVE PLANS. 

you know ill use this against you in court right 

ARE YOU FREE AT ALL? 

A pause, no immediate answer. His pulse raced cold, and he had fucked this up already; too pushy, too thick, and Dave was probably already annoyed. Good and bad, because he kind of still hoped to have a chance with Dave here, but if he didn’t, then fuck Pyrope. He’d just piss Dave off more before logging off. 

yeah i guess 

do you have somewhere in mind? 

Okay, backtrack; no more getting on Dave’s nerves, because he still had a chance, and a good one, too, so no fucking it up. No pushing Dave away now. 

NOT EXACTLY. I MEAN, I’M DOWN FOR WHATEVER. 

aight

meet me by gate c i have an idea

To say that he was both excited and curious would be an understatement. The last five minutes of class seemed to drag on for twenty-five years, and, by the time they were excused, he all but raced out of the classroom. His things were carelessly shoved into his locker, his bag was practically empty over a shoulder, and the speed with which he walked down the hallway was actually very impressive for him. The last time he had been in track was in high school. Slipping through the crowd and taking the stairs down, he eventually ran into Dirk, who was just leaving the building, chill and nonchalant, with both hands in his pockets. Pointy shades quickly found him popping out from the crowd, so he stopped for a moment, a brief one, just to reassure Dirk that their plan was still on, and everything was in motion. A nod of acknowledgement from Dirk, and a simple question, where they would be eating, to which he didn’t have an answer, and his heart skipped, and a smile wanted to break out. He didn’t let it, though, and, at Dirk’s subsequent silence, he decided to shrug loosely and keep on moving. Not full-blown running just yet, because he had standards for himself, despite everything, but did his best to walk in long strides as much as he could without looking weird. His legs were short and he probably just looked like a little duck waddling hurriedly across campus, but he didn’t care; not everybody could stride. Controlling his breathing and focusing on it, he managed to get to Gate C at the exact same time as Dave, except Dave looked a lot more composed than he did, walking in long, casual strides. Of course it worked for  _ him. _

“Thoughts on Sonic?” Spoken in lieu of a greeting just as they met up right under the gateway arch, a foot and a half from each other. He breathed. 

“The only place where I can mix cherry and vanilla Coke without judgement from the staff.” 

“Strawberry Sprite is also pretty good.” Almost thoughtful for no good reason, aviators glancing off in the distance, over his shoulder. Dave started for the parking lot and had him follow close. “I think cherry Coke might be my favorite soda, though.” 

“That’s quite a statement. I don’t think I can choose.” 

“Have you tried Dr. Pepper with lime?” 

“No, but I’ve tried it with vanilla. It’s alright.” 

“Sounds like that’s just what you’re into. Put a dash of vanilla in it and it’ll make your day.” 

“It’s not my fault if it’s fucking delicious!” 

“Hey, I’m not disagreeing; this is common ground.” 

In the car, as Dave turned the engine on and drove off into town, it occurred to him that Dave was the man with the keys now, and that the car was pretty much his at this point, swindled from under Dirk’s nose without much protest, or even any. At least, he didn’t think that there had been one, because he had never really seen Dirk confront Dave about anything. If the true owner of the car had his license revoked, then who was next in line to drive it? Knowing Dave, he had probably just taken it upon himself to bring the others to campus and back without really consulting anybody else, even though they didn’t seem to mind that, or the fact that he had apparently taken the keys for himself, as well. Just like yesterday, he could simply leave the house and drive anywhere and nobody would even really question him about it. As the eldest, that was probably his only privilege. 

Sonic wasn’t super crowded today and the servers managed to bring their orders relatively quickly, with a few of them staring at Dirk’s Frankenstein of a car as they came and went, but not really saying anything to either of them about it. He pulled out his wallet to pay for his half and went through some of the bills in there, trying to math in the tip as fast as possible, but Dave was quicker than him, and paid for both of their orders in full. Dave didn’t say a single word about it, didn’t even really acknowledge it; just put his wallet back in a pocket and passed him his paper bag. He thanked him through a bit of a mumble, just in case Dave didn’t want to hear it, and just didn’t start anything. Dave was clearly fine with that and didn’t really seem to want to talk about it, so they didn’t. With the radio on, Dave connected his phone to the car’s bluetooth and put on a playlist full of songs that Karkat sort of recognized, but couldn’t really tell where from. Maybe a club, or some house party; he wasn’t sure, but he’d bet bottom dollar that Dave had made these songs himself, because they sounded a lot like Dirk’s work, but not exactly. Like brothers that were easily mistaken for twins from a distance. 

There was small talk as they ate; little tidbits of throwaway information that he took to heart and stored in the back of his mind, because they pertained to Dave, and anything that held any importance to Dave was interesting to him. Dave liked burgers, but preferred fried chicken; liked soda, but preferred juice; liked rap, but preferred house. At least, recently; he had been getting into it a lot more since they had started going to clubs and parties every weekend. Would Karkat be going to Sub Rosa this Friday? Would  _ he? _ Yes. Then, yes. A glance, Ray-Ban lenses staring at him, and his heart skipped, and his face burned, but Dave didn’t say a word about it. Actually, he turned back around and changed the subject. 

Karkat also learned that there would be a new Sonic built near Dave’s house soon, but that Dave was the only one in the family who really cared about that, because they all thought Sonic was kind of nasty, even though they ate at fucking Taco Bell, of all places. Even Dirk? No, Dirk had been raised right, which he supposed Dave meant Dirk had been raised by him. A moment of deliberation, Ray-Bans trained out the windshield at the other parked cars, and Dave wondered where Dirk was right now. There was no way he had gone to Taco Bell with the others, so where was he? A skip of the heart, and should Karkat tell him? Dave had been acting really weird lately, and not entirely within reason, either, and maybe if Dave hadn’t thrown him under the bus with Jake last weekend, and maybe if Dave didn’t keep running off to Pyrope all the time, he would’ve decided to side with him and tell on Dirk, but, as it was, he shrugged instead, and proposed that Dirk had spent lunchbreak by himself. He had seen Dirk do it before, having lunch at a random table full of random art students, so maybe Dirk did it again today. Aviators moved over to stare at him, but Dave didn’t say anything else to that, just looked, reflecting his own face back at him. If Dave had something to say, it never happened, and, instead, he brought up his medium cherry-and-vanilla Coke for a sip. 

“Things are weird, aren’t they?” Voice easy and level, not putting any emotion into it, because that wasn’t where he was going with this. No response from Dave, although he did stop drinking from the cup, Ray-Bans perfectly directed at him. He continued. “You guys were a lot closer before Jake showed up, and now you’re not even having lunch together. I don’t know where I’m supposed to be in all of this. I mean, I’m not really supposed to be anywhere at all, if you think about it; this isn’t even about me.” 

“Yeah, I know I kind of dragged you into it, but you’re right where you’re supposed to be, dude.” 

“At a Sonic drive-in?” 

“No, with me.” 

Oh. His heart pulsed against his chest and he could feel it on his face, warm on the neck, steamy under the collar. Dave put his drink down in a cup holder and turned to look at him, sitting sideways behind the wheel now, one elbow to lean atop the backrest of their seat. 

“It’s all kind of divided right now, and you’re right about that, but this discussion with Jake is an old one. It was talked about in high school, it was settled right before college, and now it’s reopened, back to the goddamn drawing board. It’s annoying and frustrating, but it’s a matter of time, too, which is why I’m not worried. Bro knows what’s  _ supposed _ to be done, and he knows what being an idiot can lead to, so, really, at the end of the day, man, it’s up to him. It’s all kind of up to him to see what he wants to do with Jake. I know Jake’s not here for me, much less for the others, so whatever bro decides to do, the repercussions of that are on him. I’m just doing my own thing.” 

“So you’re checked out of it.” 

“No, I’m not, I just don’t have anything else to say about it. They all know where I stand already, and that’s that; I’m not going to change my mind.” 

“Okay.” Hesitant and unsure, eyebrows drawn together a little bit, eyes down to stare at the cup holder between them in thought; really just making a show of it to get Dave curious, and asking, and it worked. 

“What is it?” 

“I just don’t understand why you can’t reiterate the same agreement that was reached last time, if all of this has already been said and done. Can’t you just circle back to the same conclusion and use it again, or is there something else?” 

“There’s something else, yeah, not to mention we thought Jake was never coming back, which changes things. It’s the same, but it isn’t, except bro can handle it this time around.” 

“What else happened?” His heart skipped with the question, eyes growing wide, trained back on Dave to see the grimace on his lips, and the stiffness of his back; head turning a degree to the side in response to that, discomfort written all over him. He was close. He was very, very close. 

“It’s really not worth talking about. It’s…” A pause, and Dave’s jaw set, hands fiddling with themselves. “It’s too upsetting to remember, and, anyway, it doesn’t matter; it was just something that happened. Actually, something that  _ didn’t.” _

Huh, what the fuck did that mean? It contradicted everything that Dave had just said, but he decided against pushing any further right now, in fear of accidentally drawing Dave away. Dave was slippery enough as it was without him poking around the guy’s past, and, either way, he had gotten confirmation that he was right, that something else  _ had _ happened, which was good enough for right now. Clearly, whatever tragedy Dave had alluded to had been blamed on Jake, who now carried more crosses than he should’ve rightfully borne, but not that he really cared; Jake probably deserved all of the rest. This finding was big, sure, but it wasn’t big enough to contact Jake over, and, anyway, he couldn’t even do that without Jake’s number or Facebook contact. He could probably find Jake there if he really wanted to; if this was an emergency or something, except it wasn’t. He didn’t even have any real answers, so, instead of celebrating too early, he dropped his eyes to the space between the two of them and stared down at Dave’s legs, how one of them rested across the middle seat, bent at the knee, and nearly touched him on the thigh. 

“Sorry for bringing it up; I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“It’s fine. Hey.” Spoken as Dave reached towards him for his attention, making him glance up to stare at Ray-Ban lenses and watch the hand now near his face brush him on the cheek, feather-light on the skin, heart beating faster. “Thanks for inviting me to lunch. This was pretty nice.” 

A half-hearted scoff to lighten the mood and give his heart a break, chest filling up big, eyes averting from Dave’s face because watching himself all the time was torture, and seeing exactly how close Dave was to touching his face, really touching his face and feeling it and closing a palm across his cheek was too much; his heart jumped, and pounded him on the chest, and sounded in his ears, and it was too much. He could feel the skin on his face burn from the mere prospect of more, with Dave’s hand right there, lying on the backrest, fingertips brushing him on the shoulder. A hitched breath, and the ghost of Dave’s hands were on his body, the memory of Dave’s lips on his neck, the last time Dave had actually touched him. Had that pushed them further apart? Movement on his left, Dave turning back around to pick up their trash and stuff everything inside one of their paper bags; so the moment was over. His heart squeezed, but he cleaned up after himself and helped Dave throw everything away. At least Dirk’s car was as the guy had last left it. 

Back on campus, Dave parked near Gate C again and saw him out of the car, walking close to him through the parking lot to the green scenery that surrounded each building with trees about ten stories high that rustled gently in the breeze and cast shadows over the two of them, and all down the path ahead, too, peppering it in sunlight that shone through the gaps between leaves and lit up the gravel in misshaped dots. It was finally starting to warm up for real, but the occasional breeze was still pretty cool, and the reason why he still wore a jacket to class, even if a light one at that, while Dave and most of the humans around didn’t anymore, seemingly okay with this weather, the beginning of spring. They were probably a good month into it by now, but the days had only started to get warm recently, while the nights still refused to budge. 

In a dark red t-shirt and black jeans, with hair rustling in the wind, shining blonde and white under spots of sunlight, Dave walked him across campus, hands hanging loosely at his sides, almost close enough to brush against his own. It didn’t happen, but the possibility had his heart skipping anyway. The tan of Dave’s skin under the sun like moving medallions across his body, the intricate little pattern of leaves and flowers intertwined as the print of his shirt, where collar met neck and the colors drew clear contrasts to one another, and he noticed Dave’s face turned in his direction, Ray-Bans casually locked on him, the two of them staring at each other as they walked, like a ship to a dock, dolphins that swam alongside yachts. He only broke the stare when they arrived at his building, only now realizing that Dave had walked him to class. 

“What are you doing later today?” He asked, voice level, a sort of tranquility between them that filled his chest with calm and rested his heart in peace. 

“I’m not sure yet. There’s a lot I  _ could _ do.” 

“Are you watching Dirk?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“I guess that makes it my turn, then.” 

A shrug from Dave, sangfroid on his shoulders. 

“It’d be cool if you could.” 

“Sure.” Spoken as the students around walked past them for the entrance doors, the leftover minutes until the next class slowly ticking down, and he should leave, moving to turn around, but only managing one foot toward the door, hesitant, unwilling. There was something in his chest, a feeling, a sort of unease that was too heavy to ignore, and that tore through his lungs and climbed up his throat with no means of being swallowed down. He had to say it, but needed Dave’s attention first. “Can you do me a favor?” 

“Yeah?” One eyebrow up, poking over the rim, and he had gotten Dave’s interest. 

“Take care of yourself.” An exhale, and his chest felt lighter already. “I’m here if you need me.” 

There was no response to that; thick eyebrows down, hidden under dark lenses again, the space between them creased into seriousness, and he didn’t need anything to be said, only a message delivered. Not sure from where, but he had needed to say it, to let it reach Dave in a way that mattered. One last heartbeat to linger in place, and he finally turned to walk back into class. 


	18. Public ally

It was particularly challenging to find where he belonged amid so many people who knew him equally as little, but thought they knew him a lot more than that. In a situation entirely dictated by certain events of the past that he had in no way participated, or even had unbiased knowledge of, everyone thought of him as the untarnished party with no preconceived notions and no personal agenda, and treated him as an ally, even if he certainly had plans of his own. They texted him, confided in him, and hung out with him, but didn’t actually show him the missing link. At first, he thought that he was on Dave’s side, because that was the man whom he had pledged allegiance to from the very beginning, but only until being used as a ladder to give Dave an advantageous point of view of the situation, which in turn dragged him into a mess that had nothing to do with him. Rationally, he was on Dirk’s side, because Dirk had helped him with his own personal goal to worm himself into a certain someone’s pants, heart and brain, but Dirk was located far too deep into the mess that he so desperately wanted to get himself out of, and was therefore too dangerous to ally oneself to, especially if he intended to climb out of this one unscathed. 

Yesterday, he had accidentally found himself aiding the Lalondes and Egbert with their own objectives, which involved too much of the past to really relate to, but that still gave him a different view on the entire situation in a way that, having only talked to the Striders so far, he hadn’t considered before. Being the outside party, he soon realized that he’d never get any of the facts straight, and would only hear biased stories skewed by the emotions of the people who had lived it. Fuck it, then; he’d only believe in half of what they said. 

To account the unaccountable, Jake, as the injured party, had just as much right to share his own side of the transpired events as the ones who currently prosecuted him, and who, after thoughtless convincing done in self-preservation, had come to see him as an ally, as well. At this point, he was pretty much cursed, because everybody was right, yet everybody was also wrong. He didn’t belong anywhere, but he also belonged with everybody involved, so where did that leave him exactly? On the side of the road, in the dark, with a thumb out, but, also, at Jake’s conspiracy table, and Roxy’s spare bedroom, and Dirk’s oval office, and Dave’s master suite. (Maybe? Hopefully. He’d like to believe that he was at least better than a motel room, if Monday was any indication of it.) In short, he was all up in everybody’s business, which was the exact opposite of where he wanted to be, but couldn’t do much about it, because everything he did felt like another step into quicksand. Roxy texted him right after class, asking whether he’d come over to their house or not, and, because he had already agreed to watching Dirk this afternoon, anyway, he accepted the ride. Whatever. At this point, what difference did it make? He was already deep in it. As a surprising remark, however, it was actually Egbert’s dad that drove them all home, and not Dave. A simple question halfway through the ride granted him the reality that nobody knew where Dave was. Again. 

“He’s been really distant lately.” Roxy commented up in her bedroom, sitting on the rug with her legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, and her back resting on the bed frame behind her. “I’m kind of worried.” 

“His lack of concern and overall initiative in regards to the assessment of Dirk’s situation is extremely out of character.” Here, Rose turned to look him in the face, which wasn’t hard to do while sitting cross-legged in the circle, her spot directly in front of his own. “Just so you know, Karkat, back in high school, he was the first one to jump to Dirk’s side and take matters into his own hands, right at the forefront of the resistance, planning the bounce back in extensive detail. The fact that he clearly stated not caring about current events makes me believe that something else is going on. What are we missing?” 

The question had the entire room turning to glance at him, attentive, making his pulse skip. 

“Um, I don’t know. Why would I have the answer to that?” 

“Because you’re the only one still able to get close to him, while everybody else is barred two emotional layers away from the core. Even Dirk has been getting left behind, which worries me a bit.” 

“Isn’t that normal?” Asked from a certain memory of his conversation with Jake this morning, something about Dirk never really being included in things. 

“No, it isn’t.” 

“That’s actually the opposite of how it goes, although it is interesting that you asked us that. What made you think it?” 

“Um.” Heart skipping, Rose’s inquisitiveness very anxiety-inducing. “I don’t know; I thought I remembered someone saying something about that.” 

“Saying what, exactly?” 

Fuck. 

“That Dirk wasn’t always in the middle of stuff like he was after what happened. I think Dave told me that.” Bluffing out of his ass and being very confusing on purpose as a shot in the dark, aiming to hit anything. The curiosity on Rose’s face was extremely concerning, but the surprise shown by the other two told him that he had at least gotten half of his bullshit right, or maybe just right enough. 

“He told you about that?” 

“I’m not surprised that he did, given how close you two have become over these last couple of weeks.” Voice level, with the sort of interest that almost dissected him for answers, but that he refused to say anything else about, just in case. It was a self-preservation tactic, really, because this felt like a pit of snakes right here, where he trod too close to the edge while uselessly trying to cover up the hole, but ultimately failed. Rose was obviously onto him, watching him from the bottom of the pit, peeking beneath the veil, waiting for him to trip on his own feet and fall in. She definitely already knew what she shouldn’t. 

“What I really want to know is how yesterday went.” He commented, as an attempt to steer the topic somewhere else. “Watching Jake and stuff.” 

A distinct shift in the air at that, with less eyes focused on him, and more glances thrown around the circle; everybody sort of giving each other looks. Apparently, the diversion had worked, and he could breathe again, shoulders down. 

“The unexpected happened.” 

“Jake kissed D right in front of us.” Spewed out so quickly that he almost missed it, pink eyes wide, face pale. Huh. 

“Okay.” Slowly, thoughtfully, because why was that scandalous? Everybody already knew that those two liked each other; their involvement wasn’t a secret this time around, despite how many people were against it, so wouldn’t this just be the next logical step here? He didn’t know just how far those two had gotten since Jake’s return, but a kiss didn’t seem particularly shocking to him. Jake hadn’t even mentioned it this morning, which led him to believe that it wasn’t really all that, but maybe he was missing something. Part of the story, probably, as these things went. As this particular thing went. 

“That’s  _ never _ happened before.” There, the missing piece, and it all started to fall into place. Absolutely outrageous. “They’ve always kept this stuff under wraps. I’ve never even so much as seen them holding hands, and then this. I just, I didn’t even know what to say. I never thought that Jake would be so… Public, I guess.” 

“We were so accustomed to the way they used to hide their relationship that we never even considered the opposite.” 

“You know, in retrospect, we probably should have. Remember that fight in the hallway? That’s where we last left off, I think. We should’ve known that Jake had nothing else to hide.” 

“What fight?” He asked, heart punching him in the throat, because was that the big, mysterious event that he was missing? Was that what Dave had alluded to during lunch, but which he was ultimately unable to speak of? His pulse raced. 

“In the last week of classes before graduation, well,  _ our _ graduation, this fight broke out in the hallway between periods. I don’t really know how it started, because I wasn’t there yet, but when I got to D, there was already a crowd around him and Jake, and, even though they weren’t actually hitting each other, they were still arguing and shoving each other back. It was a whole mess, man. The entire school was there.” 

“Why were they fighting?” 

“We’re not sure, but a lot was said, and pretty much everybody learned about their relationship then. I remember Jessica running off crying, and then Dave showed up to break it off. He was fucking pissed. I honestly had never seen him so legitimately livid before.” 

“It was kind of scary.” Egbert pointed out, sitting across from Roxy with his legs stretched out to meet with hers in the middle of the circle, their feet touching. “At least, I remember being scared. I thought Dave was going to punch someone, and I wasn’t even completely sure it’d be Jake.” 

“What happened next? I mean, was that the last time they ever saw each other?” 

“I think so, yeah, ‘cause D just quit school right there. That was the last time he actually went to class.” 

“Oh, wow. It really was, huh.” 

“Wait, he dropped out of high school?” What the fuck. With a brain that smart? No fucking way. 

“Yeah, he got a GED to enroll on campus. I guess he just didn’t want anything to do with high school anymore.” 

“Even though he only attended for, like, two years.” 

“He was in all AP classes, though. Every single one.” 

“Can I ask something? I’m a little confused.” Kind and polite, trying to get not only their attention, but their sympathy, too, because this was the game changer right here. This was what he had been trying to ask Dave this morning. “If you guys were all in different years, why did you all enroll in university together? Just, how?” 

“Well, Dave and I took a gap year while Rose and John finished high school. Honestly, it was pure luck that we all got accepted here together.” 

“What about Dirk?” 

A distinct shift in the atmosphere from his question, all eyes on him, almost as if shocked. Bingo? 

“What about him?” Roxy blinked. 

“Well, what was he doing in this meantime? I mean, he dropped out of school when Jake graduated, and then there was this gap year where he just didn’t go back, so what was he doing then?” 

“He was getting the GED. I just told you that.” 

“But…” That didn’t make sense. “If he really cared about going to college, then he would’ve just stayed in school with the others. Rose said he took all AP courses; I’m sure he’d have enough credit to graduate with them despite being one year younger.” 

Discomfort all around the circle, on the way they held their shoulders, on how much straighter Egbert was sitting, on the way Roxy averted her eyes and Rose cleared her throat. He was getting close, he could feel it; his heart pounded him in the chest to prove it. 

“Truth was, we only figured out that we wanted to go to college after he couldn’t apply to high school anymore, which was why the GED was the only way around it. He didn’t know what he’d take, but he wanted to be with us. It’d be a family thing, you know, going to university together.” 

“Sure.” Except… What? What was he missing? 

“Well, I’m going downstairs for a snack.” Roxy announced suddenly, moving up to stand on both feet. “Do you guys want anything?” 

“I’m going with you.” 

“Well, I don’t mind if I do.” 

All three stood up, so he mirrored them, despite the pit in his stomach and the distinct feeling of having let the truth slip through his fingers. It closed his hands into fists and set his jaw as he followed everybody out of the room and all the way downstairs, into the kitchen. Dammit, he was so fucking close; he  _ knew _ it was a cover up, and that they were all in it. A classic family secret being buried under layers and layers of dirt, but what was it? What happened to Dirk? He watched Roxy bring down some crackers and jam and pour everybody a glass of cranberry juice, which he accepted with a small thank you and a pointed look at her face, smile wide, eyes deceptive. They were all avoiding the subject and knew that he had noticed it, but still refused to openly acknowledge it, pampering him with jam on a cracker and piquant juice instead. Maybe Dirk would have more answers than them, if he could manage to squeeze it out of him somehow. 

There was a slam, loud, coming from the living room, which made Roxy raise her brows, glance around the circle, and announce that Dirk must be home. He wasn’t before? Oh, true, he wasn’t; he hadn’t been in Mr. Egbert’s car for the ride over this afternoon. He had been so caught up in Dave’s disappearance that he hadn’t even noticed Dirk’s own, except the others seemed to have known about it in advance, because they didn’t look very surprised at his sudden return. God, he really was the worst nanny if he had only come here to watch Dirk and then proceeded to forget about the guy immediately after. Maybe it was actually a good thing that Dave wasn’t around to see this. Embarrassing! Swallowing the cracker down, he excused himself out of the kitchen and brought the juice along, to which nobody antagonized him, but expressed their approval in nods and little agreements instead, lingering past the kitchen door as he left. 

Dave’s bedroom door was closed, so he knocked on it in lieu of straight up pushing it open like an absolute animal. Differently from Dave, he knew what privacy was, despite having grown up in a house with ten or so people living in it at all times, and took it very seriously. In retrospect, maybe that was why. No immediate answer from behind the door, so he knocked again, this time announcing himself by name, in case Dirk hadn’t already figured that out, which he most certainly had. Still, just to clear out any doubt. 

“Come in.” Small and muffled by the door, but that had him walking in anyway. 

Dirk sat on his own bed, kind of slouched, with both hands together in his lap and his head hanging down a bit, sort of staring at them, but at an angle. He moved up the littlest bit in acknowledgement of Karkat’s presence and watched him close the door behind himself, as to prevent any of his family members to disturb them. If they were anything like Dave, though, they’d walk right in here regardless, but it was still a preemptive action. 

“Hey. I guess it’s my turn to hang out with you.” Spoken as he walked over to Dave’s bed and took a seat, posed so that he was directly across from Dirk, with only a rug and two nightstands between them. There was a sniffle, small, and a light raising of the shoulders from it, but Dirk didn’t move otherwise, keeping his head mostly down, and his hands hanging loosely in between his knees. Huh. 

“I guess it is.” Low and quiet, lacking the confidence that Dirk had built his brand on, which put a crease on his forehead, because maybe something was up. 

“Where were you?” 

“Out.” 

Okay, attempt at conversation failed. Maybe he could try something else. 

“How was lunch? Did you get to talk to Jake?” 

“Yeah, it was fine.” 

Alright, no luck again. Shit. A thought, momentary, but if he dropped the guessing game and turned to straightforward sincerity, would Dirk tell him what was going on then, or would that only dig a deeper aperture between them? Knowing just how private Dirk could be, he didn’t think that any sort of approach would work, and should probably just leave the guy alone; Dirk would tell whenever he wanted to, whenever he was ready to. However… Maybe he could speed it up a little bit, if he just spoke about himself and opened up some; maybe it’d encourage Dirk to do the same, as well; a tried and true method that had worked with Jake before, except, this time, he wouldn’t bullshit Dirk about his own experiences, and would actually give him the real deal. His real feelings, his real thoughts, his real concerns. His heart skipped at the mere thought of saying any of this shit out loud, blood running cold, but if he told himself that it’d be beneficial to him; if he told himself it’d make him feel any better, then maybe he’d be able to do it. One deeper inhale, and he could start with Dave. He opened his mouth to speak, but faltered, and hitched, and, no, actually; he couldn’t start with Dave at all. Fuck. 

Across from him, Dirk moved to sit further back onto the mattress, so his back would rest against the wall, and his feet could be on the bed, forearms resting on his knees. With his head up like that, leaning back on the wall, Karkat noticed just how red his nose was, cheeks glistening around the sharp ends of his glasses, a reddish pink across his skin that struck Karkat like lightning and crushed him like a freight train, because if Dirk Strider was crying, then things were a lot worse than humanly possible; maybe even irreversible. His heart squeezed, his breathing halted, and he didn’t know what to do next, because comforting others wasn’t in his skillset, much less if that person happened to be Dirk Strider, the last guy in the world that he would ever think needed comforting. Sitting idly on Dave’s bed, he stared uselessly at Dirk instead of helping, heart beating tight in his chest, hands grabbing one another. Why was this so hard? Why was he so fucking inept at dealing with humans? It seemed that he only knew how to open up and have fun when he was too drunk to care. Wait, idea. One brief glance around the room, and he spotted the Fireball from last weekend sitting on Dirk’s junk of a desk, halfway hidden beneath clothes, books and scrap metal. If Dirk didn’t mind, then he could do something about this, and got up from the bed. 

Upon closer inspection, the scrap metal was, in fact, some DJing equipment with wires and knobs in such a tangled up mess that it looked like trash. Sorry. Taking the bottle, he uncapped it and spiked up his cranberry juice all the while Dirk watched him from the bed, pointy shades staring at him in his peripheral vision. Dirk said nothing about that, and he decided to keep it that way, setting the bottle back down, and finally turning to return the stare. Very casually, although in a mostly manufactured way, he took a sip from the cup, feeling the warmth of its contents burn down his throat and scorch his esophagus in its wake, his body already five degrees hotter, but still pointedly aware of Dirk’s attention on him. Truthfully, this was performative more than anything, and, moving the cup back down, he came over to sit on a corner of Dirk’s mattress, the closest one to himself. An extended arm offered the drink over to Dirk. 

“In honor of how fucked up everything is right now.” 

A moment of deliberation, and Dirk took the cup from his hand, bringing it close for a sip, except, for Dirk, that meant a big gulp. This guy didn’t fuck around. 

“I had lunch with Dave today.” He started, feeling his heart skip, but in a muted sort of way, as if softly suffocating under a fluffed pillow. “We went to Sonic and he had cherry Coke with vanilla Coke.” 

“He hates cherry Coke.” 

Promptly, absently, he turned to stare Dirk full in the face, because that wasn’t what Dave had told him earlier. Actually, that was the perfect opposite of it. Unrelated to his outrage, however, Dirk offered the cup back to him. He took it. 

“He said that’s his favorite fucking soda.” 

“It isn’t. He likes Pepsi.” 

“What?” 

There was a huge pit in his stomach right now, kind of like the one that had dug into him and winded his lungs when a rug was swiped fast from beneath his feet, taking his balance right away, two steps from the staircase. The actual fall hadn’t felt nearly as bad as the one second immediately before it. 

“You’re fucking shitting me. He just told me that  _ today.”  _

A loose shrug, unpreoccupied. 

“Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he likes Coke now; I don’t know. We haven’t spoken in three days.” 

“Really?” 

Another shrug, and Dirk seemed over the subject, unwilling to say anything else. He took a sip from the cup and passed it back. 

“So you noticed he’s been acting weird.” 

A nod as Dirk had his sip and passed the cup back to him. 

“I told you he’d be like this; that he’d act up and go insane. I warned you, but you didn’t really listen. Do you care now?” 

“I’ve always cared.” 

“Nah, but it’s all good.” 

A sip, and the cup kept getting passed back and forth between them, switching on turns as they talked. 

“Is he fucking Pyrope?” He asked suddenly, stomach burning, blood running hot. 

“Probably.” A pause as Dirk passed him back the cup. “Do you know her address?” 

“Why the fuck would I know her address?” 

A shrug from Dirk, looser than before. 

“Do you have her number?” 

“No! Look, it doesn’t matter; I don’t  _ want _ to know.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

“Because I had to. Because I’m curious. Because I care.” Another gulp, and the drink was practically gone. He left it to Dirk to finish it off. “Don’t actually tell me; I don’t want to know.” 

“Okay, well. He’s there right now.” 

The world stopped spinning, his lungs imploded, his heart held still, and he couldn’t breathe for a long, long second, choking on his own tongue, seeing dark at the edges of the universe. Dave was there right now. Of  _ course _ Dave was there right now; what the fuck did he expect? Dave had been in her arms yesterday, too, and he knew that, had known that, and what the fuck did it matter? Dave could go to her as many times as he wanted; it didn’t change what had already happened. Bitterly, he reached for the bottle on the desk and pulled it over to the bed, knocking some of Dirk’s bullshit on the ground as he did, practically clearing up some space on the cluttered surface. 

“He’ll be back.” Bitter and resentful, leaving a nasty aftertaste behind that he washed down with some straight Fireball. Since Dirk had the cup, he just took a swig right from the bottle. 

“So you see the pattern, too.” 

“How did you break out of it?” A sincere question, asked as Dirk reached for the bottle and took it from him. 

“I didn’t. Not really.” A swig, long. “They’re the ones who have to do it, not us. We’re free.” 

“Remember Acid Mushroom last Friday? In the car, when Rose said, when she said Dave was emotionally available.” A snort, and he accepted the bottle back. “I mean, what a crock of shit.  _ Emotionally _ available? No. No way.” 

“Well, he  _ was. _ That’s the keyword. He was, but, now, I don’t know. Maybe he still is.” 

“No. No, he doesn’t talk to us anymore. He, he runs off, and he spends all of his time with Pyrope, and then he comes back, and he’s, like, distant, and quiet, and we have lunch together, and he pays for it, and he’s talking about Sonic, and cherry Coke, and Taco Bell, and I’m sitting there, and I want to pay him back, but he’s not going to take my money, because we don’t talk about that. We don’t  _ talk _ about that. We make out, and we don’t talk; we fuck, and we don’t talk; it’s a date, and we don’t talk; he says I belong with him, and then immediately goes to Pyrope’s house. I don’t, I don’t get it. I don’t get it. What the fuck is going on?” 

Dirk took the bottle. 

“What’s going on is, you’re caught up in the middle of a hurricane, and it’s going to fucking suck. It already does.” 

“I don’t  _ want _ to be in it. I just, God, I.” An exhale, exasperated. “I wish I was in love with you instead. You know? You just, you know who you are, and you’ve already been through all of this bullshit; it’d be easy. Goddammit, it’d be so fucking easy.” 

A scoff from Dirk, a half-smile on his face. 

“Fuck no, it wouldn’t. Jesus Christ, it really fucking wouldn’t. Ask Jake; he’ll tell you. You’re best friends now, aren’t you? Anyway, whatever. You’re in much deeper shit than I had originally given you credit for. Sorry to say.” 

“Jake, actually, he, we talked this morning, and we’re in a truce right now. He no longer wants to kill me, but, just so you know, we’re not friends. We’re not friends.” 

“Bro, you’re in love with Dave.” 

“Huh? I’m not. What, what the fuck are you saying? I’m not.” 

“You said it yourself, man. Unfortunately, there’s no safe way out of this train anymore, bro; you gotta jump. You either stick around until the end of the ride, or you jump off. There are no more stops from this point forward.” 

“Did you jump off? When Jake was steering, did you jump off?” 

“Yeah. You know I did.” 

“Did it kill you?” 

Here, Dirk brought a hand up to his neck, as if absently touching it. 

“Damn near. It’s a rocky path, and all you can really do is stay in your wagon and watch the trees. Listen to reason.” 

Hand back down, and Dirk passed him the bottle. On his neck was a scar; a clear cut on one end of it and a jagged mess on the other, as if by faltered confidence, or a change of mind, or an interruption, faint with the passage of time. His blood ran cold, but he could scarcely feel it, warm in the stomach, warm on the face. Was this it? In the time frame between high school and college, after Dirk dropped out, and gave it all up, and stayed at home doing absolutely nothing, was that what he did? After Jake left, after the fight, after everything was lost, was that how he thought to fix it? Was that why Dave and Roxy didn’t go off to college right away? His heart raced, but he only felt soft pats on his chest. Holy fucking shit. Holy  _ fucking _ shit. 

“Jake was already gone.” Spoken mindlessly, as a thought that escaped his lips. 

“When what?” 

“When you jumped off the train. He was already gone, wasn’t he?” 

“Yeah, he was.” 

“What about now? What’s going on now?” 

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” 

“It’s not a train; he’s already at the last stop, so what is it? A car ride?” 

“It’s a single person bike ride back home after dumping a body in the lake. There’s nothing between us, Karkat; I killed it today. I can’t trust him.” 

“What? You’re not for real. Everything was going so well! You had a plan; you had multiple plans!” 

“We…” A pause, and Dirk took the bottle back from him. “He’s different. He changed, or he supposedly did, but he’s still mostly the same, except he isn’t. He’s different, but in a way I can’t understand, because he’s almost like how he used to be; he’s still so close to who he was before that I’m not sure he’s really changed. Rationally, he  _ has _ to have changed in some way, but there’s no telling how, or what he wants, because most of what he says is the same, and most of what he does is the same, but he says he’s going against himself, and he’s not really who he used to be, and he agrees to follow the plan, and then he doesn’t. He comes over and deviates, and when he said that he wanted the same thing as I did, he actually meant something else. I can’t read him, and I can’t trust him, and I don’t know what he wants, and I don’t know who he is, and it’s everything, and we’re nothing. We’re nothing.” A long, long swig from the bottle. 

Fuck 

“Did you break up with him?” 

“There was nothing to break up. We weren’t anything to begin with.” 

“Is that what you did at lunch?” 

Was that why he was crying? 

“Yes. I didn’t want to do it, but he pulled some old tricks, and then he pulled some new tricks, and I just can’t  _ fucking _ read him.” Voice louder at the end there, probably the loudest he had ever heard Dirk talk, even if that wasn’t even as loud as how he normally talked himself. Wild. 

Why did he have a feeling that this supposed breakup wouldn’t last? 

“Why are you so, so obsessed with control, Dirk? Why do you  _ need _ to know what he means when he says things when you could just, you know, believe him, and let him prove that to you instead? You’re not, you don’t own him; you’ll never be able to read his brain or hack his thoughts. I just, I think you’re sabotaging yourself. You just ended a relationship that hadn’t even started.” 

Sitting straighter, there was a shift to Dirk’s posture that stiffened his shoulders and set his jaw. 

“It’s not control, Karkat; it’s self-defense. You’ll pick up on it after Dave lies to your face a hundred times over.” 

“Okay, tell yourself that, but you know you’re really just manipulative, right? I mean, Jake’s, like, different, and unpredictable now, and that makes you uncomfortable to the point of breaking it off with him? Just, why? Why do you have to know everything? Why are you puppeteering the reconciliation between your family and Jake instead of just letting him do it for himself? Why do you need to know what everybody is thinking all the time? Why, how, how do you even know where Dave is right now, if he hasn’t spoken to you in three days? Dirk, Jesus fucking Christ. Jesus fucking Christ, just let it go. Just stop. Stop trying to take everybody’s narrative, I mean, what are you even getting out of this? The show will go on without you, man, just come out from behind the curtain and watch it from the front row.” 

“No, that’s not how it works. I built this circus. I curated the attractions; I handed out the flyers, I walked everybody in, and I shut the door behind them. There’s no way out. They can’t leave. They’re in here with me, and they can’t leave.” 

“Wh, why? You sound like a fucking murderer right now! Why do you have to lock them in? Why are you so afraid that they’re going to leave? You know they’ll stick around if they like what you’re showing them, locked doors or not.” 

“No, Karkat; they’ll lock the door if I don’t, except I’ll be on the wrong side of it, and the hallway is dark. I need to know if they like what I’m showing them. I need to know what they want, so they’ll stay. I need to know what to bring in and what to kick out, because, truth is, I only got where I am by pure luck, but I’m not coming back to the other side of the door. I’m finally in the spotlight.” 

“I’m sure you’ve always been in the spotlight to Jake.” 

Dirk didn’t immediately answer him here, but stared at him instead, pointy shades fully directed at his face, reflecting cut up pieces of himself and the room, in silence as they watched each other. Dirk’s lips parted, then pressed back together again, as if forgoing what to say next, and swallowing dry in lieu of it; pale skin like ivory in the partial darkness of the room, the last sun rays of the day casting a dim aura on the whiteness of his hair akin to a holy glow. His jaw set, he said nothing, and finally moved to look away, face turned to hide in his empty side, the scar on his neck stretching with the movement. 

“You sound like fucking Susan.” Practically spat out through gritted teeth, although directed at the wall. 

“Who the fuck is Susan?” 

“She said I’m narcissistic. That I have a God complex due to a deeply ingrained feeling of lack of agency; can you fucking believe that?” Here, Dirk turned to glance at him again, a fraction of his face reflected back onto the lenses. “I just met her today.” 

“Sounds like she’s got you down to a T, though. What a beast.” 

“Dave must’ve talked to her beforehand. She has my medical files, too, which obviously fucking helps. She studied me before I even came in.” 

Was Susan his therapist? 

“Did she call you a control freak? ‘Cause you can definitely add that one to the name-calling pile you’ve got going.” 

“What else is there, huh? What else can you come up with?” 

“Uh, well, you’re a very caring friend, even if you only show that in a creepy way, and, you know, you’re smart and handsome, which you’re probably tired of hearing, and, also, made me throw up a little bit just having to say it again. You worry too much and you’re very sensitive. For a chill guy, you’re actually the opposite of that.” 

“Do you think…” Almost absent, fading into nothingness with Dirk’s change of mind. 

“Do I think what?” 

A shake of the head, and Dirk drank from the bottle again, except in a long, long swig that was way too much and made him grab the bottle to take it away from him, spilling alcohol on the both of them, the floor, and probably the bed sheets as he did. For how big Dirk’s arms were, he let the bottle go surprisingly easily. 

“Do I think  _ what?” _ Again, but louder, more annoyed this time. 

“It doesn’t matter. The answer to that is inconsequential, because your opinion isn’t going to change mine. You don’t affect me. We’re not even friends.” 

“What? Goddammit, you’re such a fucking asshole. Of  _ course _ we’re friends, jackass! This is friendship! I’m in your fucking house! I’m on your bed! Dirk Strider, if I don’t affect you; if I really don’t affect you, and my opinion really doesn’t mean anything to you, then tell me why you started talking to me in the first place. Tell me; I’m dying to know.” 

“Because we’re in the same class, ergo we must have at least one interest in common, which makes you someone…” Voice gradually growing smaller, and Dirk watched him from the corner of his eye, shades only a degree turned in his direction. “Whose opinions… I care to know. Alright, I fell into that one; wipe that grin off your face, you look disturbing. To make my point, just because I care about what you think doesn’t mean we’re friends. If anything, we’re associates.” 

“Associate my ass, Dirk; you care about me. You give a fuck. If anything, you care way too much about everything, which is why you’re driving yourself crazy with this whole Jake shit and family stuff. You’re a little softie.” Here, he poked Dirk in the chest, making Dirk swat him away. “You’re a little softie soft. You’re a little soft boy. You’re in love with Jake and infatuated with your family and your heart’s so big even I fit in it.” 

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit for someone who just sits in class with me.” 

“Shut the fuck up. I’m, like, the only real friend you have, and you know that. I’m only here because you know that.” 

“You’re reliable. You’re a trump card. You have eyes everywhere. You’re useful, is what I would say. You’re useful.” 

“Uh-huh, and I’m also, like, your best friend.” 

A loud scoff. 

“You fucking wish.” 

“Listen, I know your big, tough guy act is just a façade to hide your soft side behind. You’re dismissing me and making fun of me because I’m nailing you right now and you’re insecure about that. I’ve got you all figured out. This?” A hand directed at Dirk, moving in circles in the air to showcase him. “This is all fake. I can see right through it. You’re a little soft boy.” 

“And you’re pissing me off.” 

“And you’re being a dick!” 

Dirk made for the bottle, but he held it out of reach from him, leaning closer to the desk at the foot of the bed, one arm back to support himself. Pointy shades stared at him, hard, because this was probably the most childish stunt he had ever pulled, but it was admittedly kind of hilarious, and kept him on the verge of laughter. Dirk was so much bigger than him that he could easily get crushed onto the mattress in exchange for the bottle and the mere concept of him challenging Dirk was just hilarious. Dirk stared, probably considering whether or not it was worth participating in this nonsense for a sip, then made for the bottle again, causing him to turn around and put the bottle on the desk, in the empty clearing that he had made amid the trash and garbage a while ago. 

“Karkat, pass me the fucking bottle.” 

“You’ve been calling me by my first name and it’s creepy, but it’s also proof of everything I just said. No, you can’t have the bottle; you’re fucking drunk.” 

“So are you, hypocrite. Are you running for president?” 

“I’m only moderately dizzed.” 

_ “Dizzed?” _

“Dizzy. Buzzed. They’re the same thing. I guess, I guess I just couldn’t choose one.” 

There was a look on Dirk’s face, or on the visible portion of it, that stared at him for a full second in complete silence as Dirk’s signature poker face slowly broke, right before his very eyes, and Dirk’s lips parted, and his cheeks grew rounder, and his teeth flashed, and he didn’t think that he had ever seen Dirk’s teeth before, pearly white and perfectly straight, in a grin worthy of Vogue magazine. Dirk leaned back, grinning wide, somehow making his jawline even sharper with it, and a low laugh escaped him, Adam’s apple bobbing, a soft pink undertone on his cheeks. 

_ “Dizzed, _ Karkat?” Spoken around the grin, muted laughter struggling to remain deep in his throat. It was so fucking surreal that he couldn’t help but feel himself grin, as well. 

“Yeah, I fucking guess. Fucking  _ dizzed, _ yeah, of all things.” 

Dirk straight up laughed, low, like the rumbling of a train in the distance, or the aftermath of an avalanche; pleasant on the ears, really nice to listen to, and making him giggle in return, eyes rolling, the world spinning. It was stupid;  _ they _ were stupid, but it was also kind of hilarious, and he just couldn’t stop himself. He pushed Dirk on the shoulder, telling him to shut the fuck up about dizzed, but it only made Dirk laugh more, half-heartedly swatting his hand away, his laughter like drumming in the chest. They must’ve been absolutely hammered, and the fact that he couldn’t feel his face was probably proof of that. 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Spoken around laughter, bedroom spinning overhead. “Tell me I’m your friend. Admit it.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Fine.” 

“Say it, c’mon.” 

“Okay, you’re my friend. Alright? Chill.” 

_ “You _ chill, dizzed ass.” 

Dirk grinned and shoved him on the shoulder, which he swatted away, despite grinning still. If he could feel anything, his face would probably be hurting by now, with how idiotic they were being. Dirk shoved him again, he shoved him back, and the bedroom door suddenly swung open, making them both turn to see Dave standing right there, shrouded in partial darkness. The three of them stared at each other for a moment, at this sudden turn of events, kind of processing the fact that they were all, truly, in the same room right now, which was broken by Dave closing the door behind himself, and moving onto the bathroom. He turned the light on in there, walked in, and shut the door so only a thin line of light came in from beneath it, travelling far into the room. Weird. 

“Dave’s fucked up, dude.” Slurred pretty badly, although he barely noticed it through Dirk’s accent. 

“Does he do that a lot?” 

“What?” 

“Just show up like this. Not say a word.” 

“Yeah. You know how he’s been.” 

Huh. Getting up from the bed, the room immediately folded into itself, and the world seemed to spin a million miles an hour, but he steadied himself with a hand on the mattress, and slowly, slowly straightened to stand like a normal person. He was fine. He was absolutely smashed right now and could barely fucking see straight, but he was fine. Dirk whoa’d at his attempt at standing like a biped, and he knew he could grab onto Dirk’s shoulder for support in case everything went horribly wrong and his feet disappeared beneath him, but he got this. He had it covered. Slowly, he took a step forward, then another, and the floor caved in, and his legs threatened to give, but a strong hand grabbed his upper arm to keep him standing, and, ultimately, saved him from straight up meeting with the ground. He pushed Dirk away and walked over to the bathroom, where, six feet from it, the door swung open. It froze him in place, of course, not having expected it, but Dave stared at him with messy hair and a black stain over his face and the air was heavy with blueberries, lavender and sweat. What was that? In the well-lit bathroom, Dave reached a hand to him, and watched him come over, blueberries heavy in his chest, lavender up his nose. It wasn’t right. Dave took his wrist, pulled him into the bathroom, and shut the door. 

He didn’t even have time to ask Dave what was going on before finding himself enveloped in a hug, a tight one, with two arms that wrapped around his torso and squeezed him against Dave’s chest, warm, firm, sending shivers down his spine, eyes rolling closed. He breathed, and a swirl of scents expanded his lungs with berries, flowers, plants, sweat; all equal parts Dave, and not Dave. Apples and roses, blueberries and lavender, and it was wrong, and it was Pyrope on Dave’s skin, and his chest constricted, and his eyes burned, but Dave gripped him tight, squeezed him in both arms, and shook, and trembled, and had his heart skipping, blood running cold. A muffled sob hidden in his shoulder and his eyes snapped open, big, wide, arms immediately clasping around Dave’s torso in return, hands grabbing the back of his shirt; fuck. Fuck. He felt himself shiver as Dave sniffled, hugging him tighter, practically picking him off the ground, but crumbling on top of him instead, heavy on his shoulder, warm on his neck. Dave trembled, and he held him back, squeezed him a bit, felt his own heart split and shatter, because where did this come from? Blueberries filled his lungs, and was Dave remorseful? Did he regret going off to Pyrope and fucking her, too? A sob, two, pressed to his shoulder, muffled into the fabric of his shirt, and the arms around him quivered, squeezing him to the point of implosion, except he kind of liked it; strong, firm. Close. Dave shifted, nuzzling into his neck, nose on his skin and a shiver down his spine, heart swelling, blood running warm; goddammit, he loved him. He loved him so fucking much. Was Dave repentant? He forgave him immediately. 

Holding Dave tight, he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror over the sink, the way their bodies molded onto one another, fitting perfectly in each other’s arms; Dave’s face hidden in the crook of his neck, blonde hair shining under the yellow light, a tuft of black hair, half a horn, and one eye poking from behind Dave’s head to see them in the mirror, both arms over Dave’s back to cut some black on the red of his shirt, gray hands buried within red folds, the sides and bottom of the shirt a different shade than the rest of it. Curious, darker, like paint splats and smears on fabric, except they clung to Dave’s skin like something wet and made his heart pump ice. His eyes widened, his mouth opened, but nothing came out of it, because Dave was already upset, and hurting, and holding onto him for dear life, and another second of silence wouldn’t change a thing, and panicking now would only push Dave away. Choking on his own horror, a strangled scream in the back of his throat, he clung to Dave’s shirt and held him through the last of his shaking, breathing deeper now, sniffling less. Slowly, the grip around him lessened, and Dave ceremoniously unlaced the two of them from the embrace. 

One step back, and Dave wiped at his own face, running a palm over his cheeks, under the glasses, red nose and glistening skin. One deep, deep breath, and Dave pulled his shirt off overhead, without touching the Ray-Bans somehow, revealing cuts on his back and sides, still bleeding, still fresh, like a hand to close around Karkat’s neck, cutting off any air from his lungs. Dave continued moving as if nothing were wrong, bending and reaching to take the rest of his clothes off, but all he could see was the blood on his skin, red like his own, dripping from gashes that were as delicate as they were surgical, thin on one end to grow thicker and deeper, like claws to prey, like Pyrope under him. He shuddered, taking an absent step back that had his back meeting with the wall and the rest of him glued to it, as far away from Dave as he could be in this small little room, heart squeezing, throat closed. Oh, God, he had really done it; Dave had really slept with her. Gashes and cuts always in groups of four, on his sides, down his back, and he could picture them together, Dave in between her legs, her arms around his back, her claws cutting through his skin. Had he liked it? Had he bit her neck and cum in her, too? Dave dropped his clothes on the toilet lid, pulled the Ray-Bans off, and the smear of black on his face was lipstick, messy on his mouth and jaw, blood on his bottom lip. Terezi, with an arm around Dave’s neck, kissing him hard, biting his lip, drinking his blood, and his chest hurt as if stabbed, the world slowly submerging in tears. Red eyes found his face but couldn’t hold the stare, dropping down right after, everything a light shade of red. Did he still forgive him? 

“Can you stay with me?” Small and quiet, spoken in his direction, but with eyes that refused to look him in the face. 

Could he? A breath reached his lungs and filled them, heart beating slower, the echo of an ache in his chest that he couldn’t really touch, buried deep under the alcohol, a thin layer of tears over his eyes. Dave looked at him, silent and pleading and waiting, and his chest squeezed, and his throat closed, and he nodded, a tear spilling down his cheek, no feeling in his hands. He leaned away from the wall, watching Dave walk into the shower, and sort of followed him a handful of steps toward it, water falling and echoing across the bathroom, the sliding door left open. On purpose so he’d follow Dave inside, or on purpose so he’d watch Dave from outside? A shoulder found the wall and he peeked in, tilting his head aside a little bit, seeing how the water slid over Dave’s skin and dragged the blood with it; four gashes on each side, ten cuts down his back. 

“Did you like it?” He asked, voice dripping with poison, hate like acid in his mouth. To that, Dave turned a bit, throwing him a glance over the shoulder that soon found the floor again, hair parted to the side, water running down his face, washing the blood from his lip. 

“No.” 

Really? His heart skipped. 

“Did you cum?” 

That got him a real look, eyes that found his face quick and actually held the stare this time around, sharp like a knife, eyebrows in a deep, deep scowl. Absolute silence from the two of them, as water ran, and hit the ground, and echoed off the glass, heart beating faster, something inside of him kind of wishing for Dave to come close and punch him in the face. Instead of doing that, Dave turned back around. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

Breath in his lungs, shoulders dropping. 

“Why do you care?” Addressed to him, but directed at the wall as a hand brushed Dave’s hair over his head, and water ran down his back. 

“Because you’re important to me.” Objective truth, but not the sincere answer to that question. He was actually burning with jealousy. 

Dave said nothing else, running soap over his skin, washing the blueberries off of his body, so he turned away and leaned back onto the wall, face up at the ceiling. Did Dave regret being with her, or that she liked it rough? Rougher than he could take it with his delicate human skin that took weeks and weeks to recover. Or was it the knowledge that he’d never be able to successfully replace Vriska and satisfy Pyrope like she could that really, truly broke him? Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with him. Maybe Dave still wanted her, despite how rough she liked to play, and he just got lucky last Monday; in the right place, at the right time. Maybe there was nothing there, and never was, and he was just lying to himself this entire time, hoping and wishing that Dave would feel anything for him; anything more than an interest to fuck. Dirk had been right, after all; they had just been horny enough to want to fuck each other. Pushing himself away from the wall, he walked over to the door and pulled it open a little bit, just to fit his head through and find Dirk in the dark, see him lying on his bed, pointy glasses turning in his direction right away. Dirk was the only one he could really trust, and, just as he thought that, a fist lifted up to Dirk’s face, still staring at him, and motioned back and forth with a tongue pushing on a cheek. Mature. All he could really do in response was glare. 

“No, that’s clearly not what’s going on. I’m standing right here.” 

“Are you going to tell me that that’s what’s about to happen? Should I put headphones on?” 

“No! Jesus Christ.” Spoken while Dirk picked up a pair of headphones from the bedside table and put them on anyway, giving him an ok sign afterwards. “Dude, he  _ just _ fucked Terezi; I’m not gonna do that!” 

“Sloppy seconds, Karkat; make him  _ dizz.” _

An eyeroll, and he shut the bathroom door closed. 

Dave didn’t take very long in the shower, but when he left, there was no trace of Pyrope’s scent on his person, replaced by lemon balm soap and rose shampoo. Clean and dry, he glanced at himself in the mirror, studying the cuts on his skin, leaning closer to look at the one on his lip. From the medicine cabinet, he pulled down bottles and boxes and went over every cut, sticking Steri-Strips to close them up and spreading ointment over the slit. The ones on his sides were easy, but the ones on his back were damn near unreachable, so Karkat stepped up and did those for him, unprompted and unsolicited, which got Dave’s attention, but didn’t have him saying anything about it. He tried his best to mimic the way Dave was doing the others and not let his drunk ass fuck it up too bad, but Dave never really complained, so he kept going. When they were all done, Dave turned around to look him in the face. 

“Thank you.” 

“Yeah, consider it payment for lunch today.” 

A scoff from Dave, a half-smile, and his heart beat deeper, chest warm. Leaving everything on the toilet lid, Dave pulled the door open and flicked the light switch off. 

In the darkness of the room, he could only see Dirk’s outline and the general shape of their furniture because of a nearby street light that shone in through the window right above Dirk’s bed and gave everything a slightly orange aura; glossy on the bed frames, shiny on the sharp corners of Dirk’s glasses, and flat over the ground. He took a seat on Dave’s bed, watching Dirk move up to lean on an elbow, one hand on the headphones to pull them away from his ears. Out of his field of view, Dave got dressed. 

“I take it it’s safe to turn the music down now.” Dirk joked, getting a click of the tongue from him in reply. 

“Honestly, dickhead, if you don’t start working on these wack-ass deliveries, your stand-up will never happen.” 

“Sorry, but coming up with fresh material around you poses to be very difficult when your face is already the punchline.” 

“Classic! Now that’s going in the Hall of Fame. Don’t let the audience forget to tip their waitresses.” 

“There’s no waitstaff at a stadium.” 

“Oh, sure, because you’d be able to fill an entire stadium with your limp fucking jokes.” 

“Actually, I’m filling it with people.” 

“Make sure to put that one in your repertoire.” 

Movement from behind him, and the sheets rustled, tugging underneath his weight. He left the bed to let Dave get in it, but had a hand close around his arm and pull him back right as his feet met the floor, keeping him halfway on the mattress with a knee on it and a foot down on the ground. In the dark, he couldn’t see a lot of Dave’s face, but the hand tugged on his arm a little bit, trying to get him to come closer, and that was all the confirmation he needed to get under the covers himself. A few hours with her, a few hours with him next. He laid with his back to Dave just like they had done last weekend, except, this time, it wasn’t a stupid joke, and Dave actually got close for a hug, with his face in Karkat’s hair and an arm around his torso, hand closed over his own, making his heart skip, face burning warm; he didn’t think that Dave had ever really held his hand before. A thumb brushed over his knuckles, feeling the softness of the skin there, touching the back of his hand, and his lungs breathed in deep, and he wished this was enough. He wished he was enough. 

“Alright, if you guys are gonna start making out, I’ll just leave.” 

The hand on his own grabbed it, and Dave moved to get his face out of his hair. 

“Bro, shut the fuck up.” 

“No, it’s totally chill, I just don’t want to be here for that.” 

“No, for real; I’m so fucking tired of your voice, just shut the fuck up.” 

“Whoa, Dave.” Escaped right through his lips, because what the fuck? 

“Yeah, I know; I got the memo two days ago, thanks.” Sharp and bitter and his heart skipped, eyebrows drawing together. “Pissing you off is a conscious choice, Dave; don’t get me wrong.” 

“Dirk, hey.” He tried, quiet, soft, but Dave talked over him. 

“Are you pissy because I’m not holding your hand through a second breakup with the guy that ruined your life the first time around?” Spoken near his ear, Dave leaning up on an elbow to address his brother directly, face touching his hair. Sharp glasses watched the two of them in the dark. “Are you upset that I have my own shit to deal with and can’t babysit you all fucking day anymore? You’re not sixteen. Grow the fuck up.” 

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who disappears for hours on end without telling anyone about it, because you just can’t be bothered to give a fuck about anybody else other than yourself, so, maybe,  _ you’re _ the one who needs babysitting.” 

“Why are you so obsessed with what I’m doing? Why does everybody need to know where I am all the time? If I didn’t invite you, it’s because I don’t fucking want you there. If I didn’t tell you about it, it’s because I don’t fucking want you to know.” 

“You couldn’t have made that clearer.” 

“Not everything is about you, Dirk.” Still stern, but with less of an edge to it, and softer than before. Hearing Dirk’s name in Dave’s voice felt wrong. “My life doesn’t revolve around yours. I’m not always going to be there to clean up after you; nobody will. You know that already, so why are you making such a big deal out of it? What’s so hard to believe?” 

“That’s not it, I just…” A pause, and he heard sheets rustling, but couldn’t see what Dirk was doing. “You could’ve just told me to lay off, man. I didn’t know all you needed was some time alone, I thought...” 

“You thought you did something wrong.” 

Dirk said nothing to that and silence fell in the room. Behind him, Dave moved, leaving his spot on the bed to go Dirk’s instead, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. In the darkness, he watched Dave reach for his brother while saying something too quiet for him to hear, a shushed little word that had Dirk sitting up in response. This whole thing seemed very intimate, and he probably shouldn’t be here right now, but still couldn’t stop watching how Dave pulled his younger brother close and held him against his chest, Dirk’s face hidden on the crook of Dave’s neck, Dave’s arms squeezing him into a hug. Yeah, he should actually, totally leave, and made his way out of the bed for it, only to have Dave speak to him in return, a hand out to stop him in place. 

“Hey, c’mere.” Soft and quiet, making him obediently take a step closer, the hand in front of him closing around his forearm. A tug, and he came over to Dirk’s bed, taking a seat on Dirk’s other side. He wasn’t a complete idiot, or that much of an asshole, and leaned in for the triple hug, squeezing Dirk in between the two of them, arms interlaced with Dave’s own. Under his nose, oranges and cedar wood, cheek resting on Dirk’s shoulder blade, Dave’s arms brushing his own, Dave’s hand resting on his back. He breathed, and his lungs filled up, and this was actually a lot nicer than he thought it would be, not to mention the only way he would’ve ever touched Dirk of his own volition. Dirk didn’t move or hug them back, just sort of accepted their affection until Dave decided that his point had successfully gotten across, and slowly released his brother. He leaned back, as well, still able to read a room despite how badly it spun, and saw Dave take Dirk’s upper arm for attention, making Dirk look at him. 

“I’m sorry for being a jackass. What I’m going through has nothing to do with you, and I shouldn’t punish you for it. I should’ve told you.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not. I’m sorry.” 

A nod from Dirk, and Dave let go of him. 


	19. Friendship

His head pulsed, his body ached, and his stomach felt like a tight knot under his heart, as if an invisible hand had reached into his chest cavity and squeezed his stomach in a hard fist. It hurt like a bitch;  _ everything _ hurt like a bitch, and pounded against his skull, and came up his throat, and pushed him out of bed straight into Dave’s bathroom. All of his clothes were still on the toilet lid, which he unceremoniously pushed aside to lift the lid and empty his entire soul along with his bones and flesh into it. He coughed, and spit, and it hurt, and he knew it wouldn’t get better very soon; he knew he’d have to carry this all day long. He felt like absolute shit, his head spun, and his hands trembled, but he managed to close the lid and flush the toilet. There was sweat on his face, cold like death, making him shiver, and he kind of wanted to just drop dead right there, on Dave’s bathroom floor. He washed his hands, washed his face, ran some water through his hair, and closed the tap, holding himself over the sink with an elbow on each side of it, nausea in the pit of his stomach with nothing left to expunge from it. Drinking yesterday had been a mistake. Yesterday? Leaving the bathroom, he found the world still dark, with street lights still on and stars in the sky. His phone told him that it was four in the morning, and, glancing at Dave’s sleeping form, he thought of last night; the marks on his body, the lipstick on his face. It squeezed his heart and closed his throat, eyes watering, chest constricting; he had to leave. He just couldn’t be here anymore. 

It was perfectly clear that he was never Dave’s first choice, but an idiot fan that followed him around like a puppy and agreed to do anything that he had ever wanted to, and that Monday was the result of Dave, horny and frustrated, taking some of that out on him; getting off to feel lighter, and not because Dave gave a singular shit about him. Never even had, probably; he had forced his way into Dave’s life, forced a friendship with him, forced a one-night stand with him, and was now upset that Dave didn’t reciprocate his feelings; what a fucking idiot! What a total, fucking idiot! He hated himself so much that he wanted to kick himself in the gut. God! How could he ever have believed in anything else? Idiot, idiot, idiot. Kicking the neighbor’s lawn, he watched leaves of grass bounce up into the air. Absolute fucking idiot. Dave had never given a fuck, and wasn’t that what he had told himself just a couple of days ago that he didn’t mind? That as long as Dave continued to exist around him and be his friend, he didn’t mind the rest? He didn’t mind if Dave dated Pyrope, he didn’t mind if Dave didn’t feel anything for him, he didn’t mind if Dave just fucked him sometimes to let some steam out and kept it at that, so what changed? Why wasn’t that enough anymore? Why did he care  _ now? _

The lipstick on Dave’s face. His blood boiled from it as if he had any agency over Dave, as if they had any form of relationship past friends, as if he had any more right to him than Pyrope did just because he had him first. Dave wasn’t even gay. Bisexual, even; he was pursuing a dream, an idea of Dave Strider, a thought in his head that would’ve never materialized, and it was time to give it up. It was time to throw in the towel and finally admit that, hey, he had tried. He had played the game and used all the cards up his sleeve; there was nothing else to do. This was just the next logical step. Getting in bed, he covered himself up and tried to wipe Dave out of his mind knowing full well that he’d never be able to. 

In the morning, when he pulled his bedroom door open, he immediately saw Jake doing the exact same thing as an incredible coincidence right across the hall. He had a lot to tell Jake regarding last night, and called out his name just as Jake called out  _ his _ name in return, two greetings that overlapped each other in perfect synchrony. He was about to continue talking when, from the gap between Jake and the doorway, a girl slipped out, coming from inside of his room, all dressed and ready to leave, shocking him like a lightning strike right on the tip of the horns. What the fuck was this? He knew that those two had broken up yesterday, but he didn’t think that Jake would’ve been this quick to move on. Holy shit. The girl offered him a light and polite greeting before hurrying down the hall and he realized that he actually knew her; the short, black hair; the impeccably British fashion and the red glasses; that was Jane Crocker, the head of the student council. She gave end of the school year speeches before every summer vacation and always promised to do something for the students on campus before classes resumed. How the fuck did Jake get with  _ her? _ On a similar train of thought, how the fuck did he even get with  _ Dirk Strider? _ If Karkat didn’t already know the story, he would’ve just broken down screaming. Jake was new here. 

Getting caught put an awkward smile on Jake’s face and had him waving Karkat a brief parting, which he disregarded immediately and stopped Jake from leaving with a hand on his arm, firm, holding him in place. That got Jake’s attention, and, before he blurted anything out, he made sure to tug Jake towards his own room, because what they were about to discuss was very litigious. In this hallway, at this hour, the place couldn’t have been more full or lively with students coming and going, so he delicately asked Jake if they could talk in his room instead, to which Jake replied positively, reading the atmosphere around them without trouble. With Jake's bedroom door closed, they crossed the hallway and hid behind his own door, shut and locked for privacy. 

“What the fuck was Jane Crocker doing in your room?” Starting this with what truly mattered. In response to it, Jake lifted up both palms to showcase innocence. 

“We’re friends.” 

“Yeah, I know what friendship means to you. You and Dirk have been  _ friends,” _ here, he quoted the air with both hands, “since high school.” 

“No, it’s not like that. I’m not in a relationship with her. She knows that; we’ve talked about it. We’re just friends.” 

“Who fuck in your room the moment Dirk gives you the boot.” 

“Okay, of course he told you that, but listen; he completely annihilated me, mate. He destroyed everything we had worked for and crushed any hopes of being together again. I was  _ upset. _ Clearly, I’m not giving up on him myself, but with the way he put it, I actually, sincerely considered it, and it hurt. Jane and I are not together.” 

“So you bury your sorrows in the nearest pussy. God fucking dammit; you’re all the same.” 

“I was hurt and I went to her to talk, just talk, but she had other ideas. So what? Why am I always the villain here?” 

“I think you’re just a fucking idiot. What did you do to set him off like that?” 

“Nothing! He simply doesn’t trust me in regards to anything.” 

“Jake, what the fuck did you say to him?” 

“Listen, he wanted to discuss the night before, because I kissed him goodbye in front of his cousins, but I was making a point. I  _ want _ to be with him, and I need everybody else to know that, too. Admittedly, I caught him a bit by surprise, but is that such a bad thing? He doesn’t believe in what I say, so I thought I’d show him what I mean, but, of course, he went ballistic over it, and threw a huge tantrum. Unnecessary, I think. He called me a con artist.” 

“Okay.” Fuck. Dirk hadn’t really told him much about that last night, only that they had broken up, and he was serious about it this time, which he didn’t particularly believe for a multitude of reasons, so he didn’t have much to cross reference with what Jake had just told him here. He had been very drunk, and Dirk had been very upset; useful information had been minimal if compared to everything that Dirk had told him. He’d probably have to ask him about it again. “Does Dirk know about Crocker?” 

A look on Jake’s face, hesitation in the way he moved, and god fucking dammit. Shit. 

“Not particularly.” 

“You fucking idiot. You know that’s not going to help you win Dirk back, right? In fact, I think he’s actually going to kill you for it.” 

“Alright, mate, hear me out. We were sleeping together before I even talked to him, okay? Since then, we stopped. Last night was the only exception.” 

“Oh, hell, Jake; is that  _ any _ better? Knowing you’ve been sleeping with her even before reconciling?” 

“I didn’t do it while we were on speaking terms. He just really dug into me last night and I actually thought we were done.” 

“And she’s fine with that? Does she even know about him?” 

“She knows part of it. She knows we’re friends, and that we had a big fight in the past, and then another one yesterday.” 

“So she doesn’t know jack shit.” 

A deep sigh from Jake. 

“Obviously, if Dirk and I truly get back together, I’m going to talk to her about it, and we will discontinue our involvement. She’s only a friend.” 

“And you don’t think that’s going to break her heart? What are you even doing with her?” 

“No, she’s going to be fine, because we’ve talked about this extensively. It’s simply a matter of attraction. We’re having fun, and we’re both very aware of that.” 

In truth, he didn’t know Jane Crocker at all, but still had a feeling that that wasn’t true, and it wouldn’t all end as simply as Jake thought it would, because nothing was ever simple. Not in his experience. 

“Jake, I think you’re digging your own grave here. I think, if you really want to be with him, then you can’t be fucking around with her like that. You should commit.” 

“You don’t think I know that? I stopped seeing her the moment I ran into him at the club. We’ve talked about this, man; she knows last night was a one-time thing. She said so herself.” 

“Okay, then keep it at that, and, when you tell Dirk, make sure to emphasize how you  _ weren’t _ seeing the both of them at the same time. He will need to hear it.” 

A sigh, deeper than before, and Jake brought a hand up to his forehead, pressing on his temples as if in pain. He must’ve had a headache, too. 

“What, is this too much for you?” Voice a little vile, his chest harboring a little evil in it. “Is he even worth the trouble?” 

“Yes, he is, actually. He’s the most complicated, the most confusing, and the most delicate person I’ve ever met, and he’s one hundred percent worth it. He’s worth absolutely everything.” 

“Then you should tell him that.” 

“You don’t think I have? I’ve been trying to say it this whole time, and I said it again last night, but every time I tell him how much I care, he shuts me down. He freaks out, throws a tantrum, runs off and ignores me for, like, two days. It’s impossible. I don’t think he wants to hear it.” 

Huh. 

“No, I think he desperately needs to hear it, but something’s not letting him believe you. He told me that he can’t tell when you’re lying to him or not, and I guess that insecurity is what’s messing with him so bad.” 

“I’ve never lied to him. I’ve lied to myself in the past, and I suppose those lies were inadvertently passed onto him, too, but I’ve never purposefully lied to him. Not in my entire life.” 

“I don’t know. You’re clearly very important to him, I mean…” His heart skipped and he cut himself short here, blood pumping cold. Okay, he should probably tell. Out of everyone, Jake needed to know this the most. “I need to tell you something, but you need to promise me that you’ll never tell Dirk I told you. Actually, don’t even let him know you know; just play it cool and pretend you already forgot what I’m about to tell you. Alright?” 

The look on Jake’s face held as much concern and fear as it should for this, so he cleared his throat, closed his hands into fists, and told him. He had been extremely intoxicated last night, but, with how openly Dirk had put it, touching his neck, evading the question, jumping off the train; it would’ve taken a real idiot to not have put two and two together right then and there. Luckily for him, the absurd amount of alcohol content in his bloodstream at the time had soothed his heart and calmed his nerves, because he was dead sure that, had he been in his right mind, he would’ve screamed and shaken his arms in pure horror. He had felt the coldness of it in his chest, swarming right under the skin, but his brain had been too sauced to really register it. Right now, telling Jake, he had to hug himself to keep from shuddering, heart beating painful, chest aching desolate. Green eyes widened in shock and filled up with tears, watching him wide, barely blinking. In complete silence, Jake listened, not once interrupting him, with tears dragging down his face, dripping from his jaw. Maybe it was better that Jake had gotten this from him than from Dirk himself, because he hadn’t been involved, and could relatively keep his cool about it, despite how painfully his heart squeezed, or how cold his hands felt. Plus, he had a feeling that Dirk would’ve never told, and his family would’ve never dug this up, anyway; he had just pushed and prodded enough to piece it all together himself. 

“Maybe he knows you’re telling the truth, but he’s too afraid to believe you.” He continued, voice low, small. “Maybe he’s afraid of going through all of it again.” 

No response from Jake. Instead, a sniffle escaped him, and he brought a hand up to wipe his face dry. 

“I shouldn’t have left.” Jake admitted, quiet, sincere. “I shouldn’t have put him through that.” 

“I think what he did, what he  _ tried _ to do is bigger than you. Bigger than him and everybody else, too; it’s a culmination of things. It’s too much weighing him down, like a maze with no way out. I don’t know. I just think it’s too big of a decision to have been made solely because of one person. I think it’s more than that.” A click, and everything started falling into place. “Dave’s not worried that Dirk’s going to fall back into the hole. Did you know that? He said that things are different now; that Dirk can handle it this time around, and I think he’s right. Did you see how much they support him? He’s not alone, and the maze is actually a beautiful garden; things are not how they were before. I think he’s going to be fine.” 

An exhale from Jake, shoulders relaxing. 

“Golly, I must speak to him.” 

“Actually, I don’t think you should.” Spoken a little fast, one step taken closer to Jake, hands raised up without him even realizing it. “I think you should give him a second. Let him come to you instead.” 

Jake gave him a look in response to that, so he continued. 

“I talked to him yesterday and he seemed very overwhelmed, so I don’t think that pushing him now will do either of you any good. Just let him sort out his thoughts and come to you on his own terms. He might even want to reconcile then, and all you’ll have to do is take him back. Personally, I think it’s time you stop running after him.” He shrugged. 

A moment of careful thought and deliberation here, and he could tell that Jake didn’t like that idea in the slightest, but couldn’t really argue against it, not rationally. Jake ran a hand through his hair, shifted where he stood, and sighed. Battle won. 

“Alright, I suppose I’ll take your advice; I just hope it won’t take him long to come see me. I’d love nothing more than to just settle this whole thing once and for all.” 

“You and I both, man.” 

It was bright and clear outside, without a single cloud to block out the sun today, but it was still just cool enough to wear a light jacket and get away with it this late into the month. Wearing one at night made a lot more sense, but he took any opportunity he could get, and only gave it up completely when the outside world was far too hot to even have skin on. For now, he was fine, and could keep his trademark black on black style without having to show off his arms. He didn’t have anything against them; just felt a little uncomfortable without some sort of jacket on, because he had kind of grown up in them back in Detroit, and had never really gotten used to the Texan summer. Luckily, that wasn’t here just yet. 

Walking to his building and following the crowd toward the front doors, he ran into Dirk, who had obviously spotted him first, and stood a little ways away from the flow of students with pointy shades that watched him straight on, as if waiting for him to catch up. Parting from the crowd, he walked over to Dirk, and completely disregarded his nonchalant greeting while going right in for a hug; his face on Dirk’s chest and both arms around Dirk’s midriff, squeezing him a little bit. In truth, this was absolutely insane, but that notion only registered into his head a moment too late, when Dirk was already hugging him back despite how quickly his heart raced and how cold his blood ran, because, wow, yeah, he had just straight up hugged Dirk Strider in public without even saying anything. Yeah, cool; his knees threatened to give, but Dirk was hugging him back, so it must’ve been fine. If Dirk had a problem with that, he would’ve most likely already gotten shoved away. 

“You good?” Asked over the top of his head, but low, so it’d remain between them. He undid the hug to look Dirk in the shades and answer positively to that, but instantly realized the crowd that had gathered around them in these last few seconds, with pretty much every ECE student staring at them in some way; either standing around in small groups, or slowly walking into the building. That really made what should’ve been just two friends meeting up for class a lot more awkward than not. 

“Yeah.” He answered, slowly, passing the crowd a pointed glance to see if it’d disperse. Leisurely, the students started to go back to their own business, phones turned away from them, videos ended and probably already uploaded to every social media out there. Whatever. 

“Thanks for yesterday.” Dirk commented easily, starting for the entrance doors. He followed. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it. In the center of the vortex, you can only tell what it is when somebody fishes you out of it.” 

“Yeah, I was mostly just chilling, but you’re welcome. That’s just what friends do.” 

“Right.” A pause for deliberation, and he almost cut in right here to prevent Dirk from going back on his word last night, but, to his luck, he didn’t have to. “Yeah, thanks for being a friend.” 

In the classroom, sitting at their usual spots, Dirk lowered his voice, knowing full well that this was probably the only place on campus where nobody could successfully eavesdrop on their conversation, or record them doing something stupid with each other. 

“Good on you for taking off this morning. Dave was not in good shape when he woke up.” 

“Yeah, I… I was wrong.” He confessed, feeling his heart skip, eyes down at the open textbook on his desk. “I know I said this was what I wanted, but I was wrong; this is the worst thing ever. I can’t… I can’t do it. It’s too hard.” 

“It gets better, I promise.” 

“No, Dirk, I don’t  _ want _ to be his second choice. I don’t want to be the rebound, or the doormat, or the lap dog; I just, I can’t do this. I can’t keep doing this to myself, it hurts. It hurts too much.” 

“I know, man, but just hold on for a second. Just hang in there for another day or two; it’ll get better. Trust me.” 

A glance to meet with pointy shades that stared back at him. 

“What do you know?” 

“I’m not telling you. Dave should be the one to do it.” 

“But what if he doesn’t?” 

“Then I’ll tell you myself, but just give him some time. At the very least, give him the end of this week.” 

“Okay, I could do that, or you could tell me, and I’ll tell you what Jake said to me this morning.” 

“Blackmail, huh. Twenty-four hours and that’s what our friendship has evolved to.” 

“If you really think that we’ve only been friends for a day, you’re absolutely delusional. As your friend, I think I might even have to check you into a home.” 

“Well, the official contract was only signed yesterday, and you’re lucky that I’m not questioning its legitimacy due to our mutual intoxication at the time. What did Jake tell you?” 

“What did Dave tell you?” 

They stared at each other. 

“Alright, it’s an impasse, then. Tell me, how important is the information that you currently hold?” 

“Pretty important. I think you’d like to know it.” 

“Is it about me?” 

“No, and that’s why I think you’d like to know it.” 

“Well, what Dave told me is definitely about you, so we have our first distinction right there. If I relayed it to you myself, I’d be murdering the sincerity behind it, and ultimately defeating its purpose. Would the same happen with what Jake said?” 

A sharp inhale. 

“I know where you’re going with this. You’re going to say that whatever I know would still be factual regardless if you heard it from me or him, while the very sensitive information  _ you _ have would lose most of its meaning if it didn’t come from Dave himself, and, yes, you’re actually right about that, but it’s still not going to make me say it. That’s not how I play.” 

“Okay, here’s a little context, then. He had a nightmare last night, which involved both you and Terezi, and was deeply disturbing. It was actually so fucked up that he woke up crying, but don’t promulgate that information; let’s keep it between us. He was upset and particularly vulnerable and ended up sharing some of what he’s been going through with me just because I was the only one there. I’m not going to tell you what he said, but it’s good news.” 

“How is it good news if it was a nightmare?” 

“I’ll let you answer that yourself when he finally talks to you about it.” 

He squinted, watching himself on the lenses. 

“Well, I’m not telling you what Jake said.” 

“Can I guess what it is?” 

“No.” 

“Can I offer you any other type of information that I may have? I know more than you think.” 

“I know you do.” A pause, and he glanced down at Dirk’s neck, the scar on it. “How much are you willing to share for it?” 

“How much do you think it’s worth?” 

“Probably not as much as you have on Dave, but it’s not the only thing I have on Jake, either. He actually told me a lot this morning, including why he came back.” 

Pointy shades stared at him. 

“Are those two distinct pieces of information?” 

“Yes. How bad do you want to learn them?” 

Dirk’s leg bounced, his pants rustled with it, and he was actually wearing them pulled up to the knees this time, how he usually did, especially before the crash. There were clear bruises on the whiteness of his skin, but they weren’t so bad that the whole world would notice them from a distance. Karkat himself had only pointed them out while sitting next to him like this, not while running into him outside. 

“Come over after class. I’ll tell you everything.” 

What a sweet fucking deal. 

At lunch time, the two of them actually spent it with the others for once, getting a welcome greeting from Roxy that was both sharp and warm, but was ultimately glad to have them back, even if Dave was still missing. At that point, he wasn’t surprised, but it didn’t help the ache in his chest, either way. Even after last night, he was still with her? The thought crossed his mind and cut through him right as the others let him know that Dave hadn’t actually come to class today, just dropped them off and left. Would he be back to take them home this afternoon? They didn’t know. They didn’t even know where he went this morning, and didn’t ask, either, because he needed some space. He had approached everybody at breakfast and come forward with how he had been doing lately; that he had been going through something and needed some time alone to sort it all out. They all respected that and hoped things would get better for him, despite how much they wished they could help. Sometimes, giving people the support they needed was all that could really be done. 

“Do you happen to know anything that we don’t, Karkat?” Asked while Rose moved her cup in circular motions to swirl the contents inside of it, making him stop halfway in for a bite of his tuna sandwich. 

“No? Why would I?” 

“Don’t expect me to have forgotten what happened at Acid Mushroom just because of how intoxicated we all were.” Her purple eyes were sharp, directed right at him, and, without looking away from her, he could feel everybody’s attention on himself, too; heat on his face, heart beating faster. “Are you going to tell me that that was a one-time occurrence?” 

“I’m going to tell you that I’m not legally allowed to say anything about it.” 

“Is it a fair assumption to make that your involvement with my cousin runs a little deeper than a drunken kiss in a club?” 

“Maybe, but a much fairer assumption to make would involve his unspeakable escapades and Pyrope’s relationship status.” 

“Well, that part isn’t exactly hard to predict, now, is it?” 

“She’s actually speaking to Vriska again. People saw them talking before second period today.” Roxy clarified, bringing her own drink up for a sip. 

So Pyrope had come to class, after all, which meant that Dave, wherever he was, wasn’t with her. A breath left his lungs. 

“She actually asked me if Dave was coming to class today.” Egbert added, crumbling up the bits of aluminum foil in his basket. “I guess she wants to talk to him.” 

Maybe he was avoiding her, too. 

By the time classes ended, the whole family had picked up on the fact that Dave wasn’t coming back to give them a ride, which probably meant that they were all in some sort of family group chat without him. It was fine; he guessed most families had that, and just had never really thought about it, because he hadn’t spoken to anyone in his family in a very long time. Instead of having to take the bus, Egbert’s dad was nice enough to drive them home, and Rose had no problem riding in her sister’s lap. In fact, that only gave Roxy a chance to hug her sister the whole way there, which was, admittedly, kind of adorable. He never really saw much physical contact between these guys, so that was pretty cute. Tangentially, he wondered if Dirk would’ve had any objections to riding in Dave’s lap. 

In the house, while everybody crossed the living room for the stairs, Dirk announced that he’d be going to the room with Karkat. That got everyone staring, of course, and he could tell, just from the look on Rose’s face, that leaps and jumps were being taken in her mind, to which he felt compelled to clarify. 

“We’re not fucking.” He told her, having the others glance at him, as well. “Dirk and I are friends now.” 

“Officially.” 

“Is that right?” Roxy asked, cocking her head a little bit to the side. “And what is it that you have to tell him that we can’t know about?” 

“We’re actually under agreement to exchange certain types of information regarding each other. It’s personal.” Dirk explained. 

“Yes, I can see how coitus would be rather personal.” 

“It’s not coitus, because we’re too similar, Rose. As a lesbian, you have to know what I mean.” 

Blonde eyebrows lifted. 

“When the will is strong, we find a way. I’m sure the same is true for men.” 

“You’re not wrong, but Karkat’s not my type.” 

“Unfortunately, I don’t work out, and he’s too shallow to appreciate my belly, but I  _ am _ his friend type.” 

“That is entirely correct.” 

“You don’t have a belly.” Roxy cut in, eyebrows pinched together, pink eyes glancing him down. “You’re tiny.” 

“Well…” 

“Your only concrete proof of that would be showing it to us.” Rose argued, wearing a small smirk on her face that made him take the hem of his shirt and hold it down very defensively, as if anyone would jump up to him and try to take his shirt off. 

“I’m going to Dirk’s room now.” He pointedly announced before turning to do just that. 

In the room with the door closed, they both took seats on each of the beds as to face each other, with Dirk on his own, and himself on Dave’s, a parallel to how yesterday had begun, except, this time, they wouldn’t get drunk. His head still hurt from it. 

“Alright, before we begin, here are some ground rules.” Ah, of course; he’d expect nothing less from Dirk Strider himself. Crossing both legs Indian style, he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer with his attention. “Questions are unrestricted and unlimited. However, depending on the worth and weight of each question, I might refuse to answer anything else, because everything has a price, even the information you’re currently withholding. Also, no questions about Dave, but everybody else is free game. Go.” 

Okay, interesting. 

“How personal can I get?” 

“That’s up to you.” 

Hm. 

“Yesterday at lunch, what happened? Be as detailed as you can.” 

“Details are heavy. That’s going to put weight on your question.” 

“I don’t care. That’s my first one.” 

“Alright, your loss. Yesterday, we met up to discuss the absolute fiasco that was supposed to be his most innocent attempt at reconciling with the others, which he then proceeded to botch completely and go off-script.” 

“You mean the kiss.” 

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire campus knew about it.” 

“Why were you so upset about that?” 

“Because that’s not what we had agreed on. He was supposed to be non-confrontational and find common ground with everybody else, but the first thing he did was pick a fight with Roxy. Fucking asshole.” 

“Okay, backtracking to lunch. Where did you eat?” 

“At the dorm. He grabbed some food and we met up in the kitchen. I approached him very calmly, by the way, to discuss his rebellion, but, of course, it all flew off the handle pretty quick. That’s just how it goes between us.” 

“What did you tell him?” 

“I said he was acting out of turn and jeopardizing every step of the plan a second time around, which, apparently, was a personal dig, and just set him off. Instead of having a nice, calm, mature conversation, we had another fucking argument, because that’s just how we work. Honestly, at this point, I don’t know why I expected anything different.” 

“So you got angry and broke up with him. Like, a spur-of-the-moment thing.” 

“No, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing. Listen, he was being facetious. I was trying to discuss our plan of action, but he dismissed that entirely and just fucking hit on me. He keeps doing that and it pisses me off. His whole pitch is that he’s changed, that he’s grown up now, but it’s all a fucking lie.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because if he had really changed, he would’ve gone along with the plan and gotten back into speaking terms with my family instead of trying to sleep with me every step of the way.” 

“Hm. That’s not the information I got from him this morning.” 

“What did he say?” 

“Is that going to pay for what you just told me?” 

Dirk stared. 

“You think you’re so slick, bro. Nah, that’s not going to pay for jack shit, because I already know what happened, and it’s what I’m telling you. Whatever he said is a lie, but believe whoever you want, just remember that  _ I’m _ your friend, not him.” 

“It’s just that his version of the events are a lot more romantic than that.” 

“Yeah, of course they are. He has this, this stunt that he’s been pulling since Saturday, where he says everything I want to hear, like a fucking syren, to pull me back in. So I’m telling him he needs to cooperate, and he’s, he’s touching my hand, and he’s saying how much he missed me, and it’s just, it’s such a low  _ fucking _ blow, man. It’s  _ not _ romantic.” 

“Why do you think that’s a stunt? I mean, what if he’s being genuine?” 

“No, that’s not how we talk to each other. We don’t say shit like that, we just do stuff. That’s not us.” 

“Okay, maybe that’s not how you used to be, but you said he’s changed. You said he grew up, and if he’s developed any emotional maturity during this time apart, then he knows that he  _ should _ say all of that stuff to the person he cares about. I obviously don’t know Jake as well as you do, but he just seems like one of those people who can’t stay single, like he’s always in a relationship with someone, and if he’s been through a few of those in this time apart, then, yeah; he knows he’s supposed to say that stuff.  _ You _ on the other hand…” 

“What? Go the fuck ahead; be my goddamn guest.” 

“No, you already know what I have to say. We’re cool.” 

An exhale and Dirk moved to sit further back on his bed, so he’d be able to rest his back on the wall behind him, head touching the bottom of the window, which was always open, for whatever reason. He only noticed that now. 

“So you’re telling me you think he’s being genuine.” 

“Yes. He’s only back because of you, Dirk. He told me just today that you’re worth everything to him.” 

Dirk’s hands closed into fists at that, legs moving a bit, but he said nothing. Good. 

“Which makes the second information I have a lot worse.” 

“Is he seeing someone?” 

“You know I’m going to cash in before I give you the dirt on him, right?” 

“Fine, what is it?” 

“Why don’t you trust him?” 

“Because he’s lied to me several times. Our entire relationship was built on a huge play pretend; why would I trust him now?” 

“You said he’s changed.” 

“That’s what he told me, but there’s no proof that it’s true.” 

“Well, I’ve only known Jake for a few days, so I’m not super reliable here, but, to me, he just seems like a dumbass. I mean, he really likes you, and he cares about you a lot; he’s just stupid about it. Like, he goes about it in the stupidest way possible, but I think it’s just proof that he’s following his heart.” 

No immediate answer from Dirk, just a quiet stare from the back of the bed, sun rays lighting up his hair like fire, light pouring in through the window to give their skin a holy glow. 

“You’re really sold on this, huh.” 

“Look, I’m sorry for how shitty he was in the past, and I’m sorry that he’s back to haunt you, but he’s willing to drop everything for you right now. I know you’re scared, but I don’t think there’s any harm in giving him a second chance, especially knowing that we’re all going to kick his ass into the next state if he decides to pull a fast one on you again. We have your back.” 

“Now you’re going to tell me that he’s seeing someone.” 

“He  _ was,  _ and, actually, I’m not even supposed to be telling you this, but I have a feeling he’d fuck this up, too, so, yeah. He was seeing someone until last week.” 

“Why should I give a fuck about that? Jake’s a himbo.” 

“Because, when you broke up with him yesterday, they slept together again.  _ But, _ don’t freak out, listen. He told me they’re not in a relationship. It was a one-time thing and she knows it, too. They’re not together.” 

“Sure, they’re just  _ friends.” _ Spoken with air quotes around the last word, or as well as Dirk could do that with half a hand in a splint. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be Jake if he weren’t sleeping with someone at all times, right?” 

A tilt of the head, Dirk taking that into consideration. 

“That’s all I have on him.” He confessed with a shrug. “The inquisition is over.” 

Even if it was, he didn’t immediately get kicked out of the house, and actually ended up spending the afternoon with Dirk there, listening to some of his music and talking about absolutely nothing. He tried asking about Dave’s dream last night, but couldn’t manage to get Dirk to tell him, so, instead, they ended up discussing the laws of robotics and the ethics around synthetic intelligence. Dirk showed him a few of his unfinished projects, let him play around with a nearby sampler, and indulged him on some of the gossip regarding the family and people that they knew, Dave notwithstanding. Apparently, Egbert wasn’t dating Roxy, but he wasn’t  _ not _ dating her, either; it was complicated. They had an on-and-off relationship a few years back which had ended on a good note, and, because Egbert was so close to everyone else, they just never stopped being friends or growing even closer to one another. He took the guest room sometimes, was invited into  _ her _ room for the night some other times, and, despite having a lot of friends around campus and practically knowing everybody there, he still spent most of his time with her. He was close with everyone in the family, of course, but she was a different story. Those two were practically an item. Well, why didn’t they just get the fuck together already, then? Dirk wasn’t sure, but it probably had something to do with how young they were when dating for the first time, and how they both wanted to enjoy the “college experience” without drawing each other away, which Dirk supposed just meant they wanted to sleep around for a while before settling down with each other, even if they had only really explored that in the first year of college. He was pretty sure that those two would end up married at some point. 

A knock on the door and Rose stuck her head in without waiting for a response, seeming surprised to find them both sitting on Dirk’s bed with music playing from the stereo, some unfinished machines in Dirk’s vicinity, and a sampler in Karkat’s lap. Her surprise was soon replaced by a nice, warm smile while she asked if they’d mind some company. They certainly wouldn’t, so she walked right in and had the other two follow her inside, Egbert smiling shyly and Roxy looking a little shaken. When Dirk asked her what was wrong, she confessed that she hadn’t expected to find them clothed, and proceeded to give Egbert a ten dollar bill. They had bet on this? Gladly taking the bill, Egbert expressed his firm belief in Karkat’s interest for Dave and Dave alone, which served to immediately rise heat to his face and set his heart off. 

“Alright, funny open secret, guys; hilarious, but just do me a fucking favor here?” Voice harsh with the speed of his pulse, making everybody turn to look at him. “Don’t bring this up with Dave. For real, though.” 

Very promptly, they all reassured him that they only joked about that around him, and decently away from Dave, because Karkat didn’t take their comments seriously; he didn’t mind them, and they were just having fun. They didn’t want to upset Dave, especially while he was going through something pretty big, and just resorted to teasing Karkat instead. At least, for the time being; the moment Dave was back to his old self, they’d all mount on him pretty mercilessly. Good; he actually couldn’t wait for that to happen. In order to make themselves comfortable here, the rest of the family laid on Dave’s bed, took the one chair in the room, and sat on the short stretch of flooring between the two beds, chatting, listening to Dirk’s music, and showing each other memes on their phones. Karkat took the opportunity to show them the video of the people in bear suits dancing and scaring Target shoppers, which was a pretty big hit, and almost even made Dirk smile. 

They discussed current goings-on, got everybody’s RSVPs to Sub Rosa tomorrow night, and asked Karkat if he’d be coming down to Houston with them for the summer. Very sincerely, he told them that he actually kind of wanted to go, but wasn’t sure if he should, because he hadn’t managed to ask Dave about it yet. Glances were thrown around the room, and Roxy sternly informed him that they were all  _ his _ friends; he didn’t need Dave’s approval for a hangout that  _ they _ were inviting him to, and if Dave didn’t want him there, then he should’ve been around to stop them from inviting him. That was honestly baffling to think about, that they were  _ his _ friends and actually wanted to hang out with him all summer long regardless of Dave’s opinion, and he wasn’t even sure how to process it.  _ You guys like me?, _ he didn’t ask, because the answer was obvious, even if he almost couldn’t believe it himself.  _ You care about me?, _ he also didn’t ask, because that’d just make them think that he didn’t have any other friends outside of college, which was true, but not something that they had to know. Instead, he accepted the invitation to Houston, and, seeing the big grins on everybody’s faces, realized that he didn’t care what Dave had to say about it. 

A little while before dinner, he decided it was time to leave, because, honestly, running into Dave was kind of the last thing that he wanted right now, and just didn’t want to chance it. His reasons remained unshared with the others, though, but they respected his choice, and walked him to the door, anyway. Dirk, however, decided to come with. 

“I think it’s time to talk to Jake.” Dirk informed him, which lifted everybody’s eyebrows and had his cousins promptly grabbing their jackets from a nearby hanger. 

“Well, in that case, we’re going, too.” 

It was a short bus trip from the Strilondes’ to his place, and increasingly more populated, too, the closer they got to campus grounds, which made hanging out with these guys in public pretty much everybody else’s business; people watched, and commented, and posted online what he’d read later were their relief to see them all together again, as well as their theories about what had driven them apart. They had managed to keep most of this spectacle with Jake private so far, but the student body had eyes everywhere, and, when it came to the Strilondes, people often came together to piece a timeline of events based on what each person saw. It proved to be difficult with so many liars infiltrating the threads, but, at this point, most of what had happened had already been mapped out, which made their appearance in Karkat’s building reason for attention. Together, they marched in, with the faces of the family walking ahead of the others; Dirk and Roxy leading them inside, where students naturally stood around and hung out together, and who were now all watching them come in. Halfway through the entrance hall, they spotted Jake, right as he climbed down to the bottom of the stairs, with Jane Crocker at his side. The Strilonde united front stopped dead on track at the sight, with both Jake and Jane doing the same at the foot of the stairs, everybody staring at each other from across the room. Around them, students watched the face-off in absolute, chilling silence. Karkat felt his heart race from it. 

“Of course it’s Jane Crocker.” Dirk blurted out, emotionless, making Jake immediately raise both palms up in self-defense, a look of complete horror on his face. “You told me not to worry about her.” 

“Dirk--” 

“And he was quite right about that.” Jane interrupted, taking a few steps forward to address Dirk directly, practically standing in the middle of the battleground. Her approach had the crowd’s jaws dropping and Karkat’s pulse running cold. What the fuck was she doing? Dirk refused to meet her halfway, and Roxy remained steadily by his side. 

“Jake’s terribly in love with you, and I’ve known that since I first met him.” She continued, drawing gasps from the crowd and putting a mortified look on Jake’s face, as pale as a ghost. “I welcomed him to campus myself, and do you know what was the first thing he asked me? After making sure to tell me that the campus is all right and jolly good, of course, he asked me if I know a Dirk Strider. He’s a one-track mind sort of man, but I’m sure you’ve known that for longer than I have. Either way, you’re not to worry about me; I’m simply tagging along, though, I must admit, if his heart wasn’t already claimed, I would’ve tried to take it for myself. He’s quite alright.” Jane talked while slowly walking towards Dirk, glancing back at Jake here and there for emphasis, and holding a warm smile on her face. She stopped a couple of feet away from him, having to look up into the shades. 

“Should I  _ really _ not worry about you, Jane?” 

“Absolutely not, Strider; I am no competition to you. Never even have been! He’s been yours from the start, mate.” With that, she patted him on the arm and walked past him, through the crowd that surrounded the scene. 

At her departure, the crowd all moved to look at Jake next, finding him near the stairway still, his face now burning bright. 

“You’re sleeping with Jane Crocker?” Roxy asked, taking one step forward, which Dirk matched with one of his own and a hand on her arm. 

“Why was she here? I thought you were done.” 

Dirk’s comment had Roxy turning to look at him, eyebrows knit together, pink eyes wide. 

“You knew about this?” 

“I didn’t know it was Jane.” 

“Guys, please, we’re  _ not _ sleeping together anymore.” Jake explained, palms still up. “I had her over to discuss this very issue, but the truth is that I was never with the two of you at the same time.” Both hands down, and an exhale seemed to escape from Jake’s lungs, shoulders drooping a bit. “Dirk, I’m not two-timing you, mate. In fact, I haven’t done that since…” A vague gesture, one hand moving in the air. “Golly, I must admit, since high school. I didn’t respect you at all and ended up losing my best friend due to my foolish shenanigans. It was what I deserved, truly, but I still regretted it.” Spoken while Jake closed some of the distance between them, walking towards Dirk and the rest, voice soft, sincere. “Can we start over, love?” 

The crowd was shocked; jaws were hanging, eyes were bulging, and Karkat could feel his own heart hammer him in the chest, pulse skipping fast. The attention of the room was fully and completely concentrated on Dirk, who showed absolutely no emotion on his face, and didn’t say a single word to the speech that he had just received. In the silence, Jake came closer, finally extinguishing the last of the space between them, but leaving a foot for Dirk’s personal space; a hand touching the back of Dirk’s own, fingertips lightly tracing his skin. Jake was very close, and lowered his voice to a whisper, asking Dirk please with green eyes low to stare into his face, head turned a bit to the side, almost hypnotic. Dirk’s response to that, whether purposeful or instinctive, was to lean forward and close the gap between them with a kiss, sending the crowd straight into hysterics; screaming with their surprise, cheering loudly, recording and taking pictures of the entire event. Karkat’s heart raced, and punched him in the chest, and it was in that moment that he realized the true magnitude of these people’s influence; how beloved they were by the community, how observed they were by the entire campus, and how many eyes would be on him if he and Dave actually did end up doing something in public. Maybe this was the source of Dave’s nightmares.


	20. Subway

It was dark in the room, although not completely pitch black; in the outlet by the door was a small night light shaped like a star, lit up yellow in the darkness, that cast a dim glow on the wooden furniture of their bunk beds and colored some of the floor, too; a different pattern on the center room rug, a brighter hue on the wall immediately behind the light. In the silence, while his brothers and sisters slept, he watched the door slowly creak open, darkness in the hallway, a waft of cold air coming from it, but he wasn’t scared. A sound, steps in the dark, and the door opened further to reveal a hand on the knob first, a body attached to it next, except he couldn’t see who it was, not away from the night light. It called to him, but he couldn’t hear what it said; there was a buzzing in the distance, like a bee deep inside the house, that made it impossible to concentrate. The figure spoke again, said his name, but its voice was intermingled with the buzzing, and, somehow, he knew it had eaten the bee. The figure shook, changing its silhouette, trembling as the bee moved in its stomach and made it sick, growing louder, rattling against the walls of its organs. The hand slipped from the knob and the figure bent over, retching, throwing up the bee and other dozens of flies, which didn’t hit the floor, but flew away instead. Dispersing from the other insects, the bee flew straight to him, and touched his shoulder, making him jerk awake in an instant, breathing in loud gasps. 

What the  _ fuck _ was that? A sensation on his shoulder, as if the bee were still there, but in real life now, rubbing on him and making him freak the fuck out, moving to sit up like a rocket, grabbing his shoulder with a hand. The buzzing continued, and he realized it was just his phone, half-hidden under the pillow. Jesus Christ. With an exhale, he took the phone only to see Dave’s name on the screen, calling him at three in the fucking morning. Honestly, he almost didn’t even want to answer it, because who the fuck called people this late?, but his heart skipped, and maybe something was wrong. Maybe Dave was in trouble after spending an entire day lost to the world, or possibly just with Pyrope, even if he hadn’t seen her that morning. In truth, he could very well have met up with her after class, thus not being able to give his family a ride home then, making them resort to calling Mr Egbert for it. One deep, long exhale, and he was so fucking tired. Right now, he just wished that Dave would make it easy for him and vanish from his life completely. 

“Hey, Dave.” 

“Man, I missed your voice.” Oh. Wait, nevermind; his eyebrows furrowed at that, but his heart still kind of fluttered. Really? Dave missed him? He could feel his blood sing. “Were you sleeping?” 

“Yeah, of fucking course I was, so I hope whatever it is you have to say right now is really goddamn important.” 

“Why, are you angry? Are you angry that I woke you up?” 

“Not yet, but if you keep testing me, yeah, I’ll get there.” 

“Are you in bed?” 

“Yes.” Then, as an afterthought, because the words on Dave’s tongue kept melting into one another, and the slight accent that he had was suddenly a lot more noticeable now. “Are you drunk?” 

A little giggle from Dave, and that was answer enough. Had he been drinking with Pyrope all night? His pulse skipped. 

“Where were you today?” Sincere and worried and jumping past his lips before he could even check himself, so he followed that up with something else to shift the focus off of his own vulnerability. “You missed something huge, you know. I mean, considering it’s all over the internet, I’m pretty sure you already know what I’m talking about, but whatever. Your brother is in the spotlight again and the student body is collectively going insane over it.” 

“Man, fuck the student body. I don’t give a flying fuck about those fucking losers.” Whoa, okay. Shit. “These idiots, they’re leeches, bro; we can’t do anything without it being fucking filmed or photographed and then posted online. They’re, like, paparazzi for non-celebrities; it’s fucking ridiculous.” 

“Well, they didn’t manage to figure out where you were today, so you have that going for you.” 

“Yeah, that’s because I was out of town, and their surveillance is, like, attached to the campus or something.” 

“Out of town where?” 

“Dallas. I needed to just… You know. Get away, I guess. Have you been there yet? They have this club, it’s called, it’s, uh, it’s something with a pony on it, and it’s kind of gorgeous. There’s neon on the walls and everything is pink and purple. If you wear white, the blacklight turns your shirt purple; it’s sick. I had a vodka soda that came with a straw with pony horns on it. Oh, it was a unicorn. Unicorn Dreams, that’s the name, but the logo looked like a pony high on coke.” 

His heart squeezed. 

“Were you alone?” 

“Yeah, but I should’ve picked you up. They had glow sticks and fairy wands. You would’ve liked the shutter shades; they had them in pink. I actually still have the bracelet, if you want it. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.” 

“Are you okay?” Because Dave was spacing out, and hyperfocusing on his own narrative, and having everything else fly over his head without a single nod to it, which wasn’t like him at all. He must’ve been really fucking hammered right now. 

“Yeah, of course I’m okay; I feel awesome. I met a bunch of new people and none of them knew who I was. Do you know how freeing that is? I could’ve just stayed. I could’ve taken a hotel room and stayed and come back the next day. I mean, I would’ve missed Sub Rosa, but, you know. Whatever, right?” 

“Yeah, whatever.” Mumbled into the receiver, heart splitting in two. “Did you make any cool new friends?” 

“No. People don’t go to clubs to make friends, Karkat; you know that. You knew that very well at Acid Mushroom last weekend.” Suddenly, his heart skipped, eyes wide. What the fuck? They didn’t talk about that. They had never  _ really _ talked about that. “You knew it last Sunday, too. We party to fuck. We party to make out and fuck, man.” 

“Is that what you did today?” Small and tentative, but he could still feel the acid begin to bubble in his stomach, and the wickedness creep through his veins. He needed to know and feel the pain and feed the ugly aching in his chest. “Did you go to Unicorn Dreams tonight to party and fuck, Dave?” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t do all of that. I just partied this time.” 

His heart skipped, acid burning through his stomach like fire. 

“Why not? Why  _ wouldn’t _ you do it, Dave? Why would you fuck somebody but not cum, huh? Why would you go to a party to fuck and not do it? Why are you half-assing all of this shit that you clearly want to fucking do? Or do you not  _ really _ want to do it? Do you just  _ kind of _ want to do it, but when you’re actually there, and the possibility is real, and it’s actually happening, you straight up chicken out? Do you just think you want it, but you don’t really, or are you just too afraid to go through with it? When you’re at the club and meeting chicks and they actually take you up to fuck in a stall, how far into it do you realize that’s not what you want? When you were balls deep into Pyrope and she was into it and scratching you up, how far did you get before backing out? What do you  _ really _ want?” 

“I want to know who the fuck I am, dude.” Cutting quick and fast with an edge to his voice that brought Karkat back to last night, the way that Dave had snapped at Dirk in the dark, pushing him away all of a sudden. His heart raced. “I left this morning because everybody’s always watching me and crowding me and I just need some fucking space. I met people, and we partied together, but I don’t know who they are, and I didn’t sleep with them. It’s too weird; it feels weird. Have you ever made out with a stranger?” 

“No.” And the venom in his mouth burned holes in his cheeks. 

“It feels empty. You’re doing it, and it’s fine, and it’s good, but it doesn’t mean anything. It’s like drinking soda when you’re thirsty; it just makes you want water even more.” 

“So you were just fucking around when you slept with Pyrope yesterday.” 

“Yeah. I mean, isn’t that what we did?” 

“No. No, you were there the whole way through.” 

“Well… Yeah. You’re good.” Holy shit, what? His heart choked him with how fast it pounded, face melting off in the dark, the acid in his stomach evaporating and gone without a single trace. What the fuck? “You and me, we kiss and there’s  _ something, _ you know? It’s not empty. It’s heavy, and satisfying, and I can feel it in my chest, and I just want to grab you, and hold you, and feel you against me. I was with you and it was so fucking good that I can’t be with anybody else now. Terezi was a fucking mistake.” Oh my god. “I thought I liked her, and, yeah, sure, there  _ was _ something, like, a feeling, and it was fine, but we’re not on the same page. She’s in love with Vriska, and misses her, and I’m obviously not her. She’s my friend and I care about her, but not like that. It’s not the same. The way you feel is different.” 

“Dave--” 

“You know what I’m talking about, right? You know what I mean. When we’re together, it’s different. The air is cold away from you.” 

His heart felt as if it was about to jump right out of his goddamn throat, trapped in it by a knot, lodged halfway up to choke and kill. He couldn’t believe his fucking ears. 

“Last night, when we slept in my bed, did you have this feeling in your chest; did you just  _ know, _ with every conviction on Earth, that it was right? That that’s what it’s all about?” His eyes burned and the shadows on the ceiling wiggled and he couldn’t fucking breathe. “Everything we go through and everything we do, at the end of the day, just brings me home to you. Did you notice that? It brings me home to shower, and lay with you in my bed, and hold you in my arms, and fall asleep with my face in your hair. That’s what it all boils down to. That’s what I feel.” 

His body sat perfectly still as the world submerged into his heart and warm tears dragged down his face, running down his cheeks, dripping from his jaw. He never thought that he would’ve ever had his heart pulled out of his chest like this, stripped down and read out loud, back to him, the words that had been keeping him alive; that had held him through the worst of the worst and shone a light at the end of the tunnel. He never thought that Dave’s heart would’ve been a perfect copy of his own. 

“Do you know what I’m talking about, Karkat? When you enter the room and it feels like summer. When you look at me and your eyes go round and I know you see me. When you’re next to me and it feels right and I know that that’s where you belong; in my car, in my bed, under my arm. With  _ me.” _

“You’re fucking drunk.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve been thinking about this all week long. It’s gotten to a point where this is all I can think about.  _ You’re _ all I can think about and it’s driving me fucking crazy.” 

He could barely even process that, heart hammering into him to break out. 

“Do you see it, too? You next to me, like a perfect picture. Like that’s where you were supposed to be all along.” 

“Is that where  _ you’re _ supposed to be?” He asked, small, sniffling all the way through. “If I belong with you, does that mean you belong with me, too?” 

A heartbeat in silence, and he could feel the world crumble; swiped from under his feet, a push down the dark stairway shaft. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Two pieces of a puzzle don’t make a picture, and I don’t know where I fit in it. I don’t know where my place is. It’s like, we have half the picture, and it’s you in my life, but I don’t know where I am in it myself. It’s fucked up, I mean, out of everybody in the world, I should know where I belong in my own goddamn life, right?, but I don’t. I don’t even know if I belong in yours at all.” Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck, fuck, fuck. _ “This whole thing, that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. That’s why I went to Unicorn Dreams, and slept with Terezi, and slept with you, too, and, just.” A pause, and he wanted to disappear. To completely and utterly vanish from this planet without leaving a single trace behind; to have never even existed in the first place. To have never met Dave, or Dirk, or have even left Detroit. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore. I don’t know fucking anything.” 

His chest felt as if split in two; cut right through with a sword, pushed all the way in to the hilt, heart pulsing around cold metal, hurting itself with each movement, blood running down the blade. In the back of his throat, a scream, stuck and lodged and painfully blocked, a knot around his neck, choking him slowly, digging into skin, and he just wanted to fucking die. A sob escaped his lips and crushed his lungs and twisted his face with the pain of a thousand gunshots, breathing out whimpers, falling apart piece by piece. The world crumbled and a dark pit swallowed him and he let it drown him lifeless. 

“Hey.” Dave’s voice like a kiss on the ear, making his skin shiver, heart sliced through. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Karkat; don’t cry. You’re my best friend, remember? I love you.” Oh, God, he wanted to fucking die. “I love you, dude; I’ll give you the bracelet tomorrow, okay? It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

End of the call. 

Unfortunately, the world didn’t just end right there and explode with him on it, but continued turning, and going, and, in its most cruel act yet, had him wake up the next morning breathing and fine. Not mentally, or emotionally, or spiritually, but physically, even though absolutely everything hurt and he wished to not have been alive. The sun was bright, the air was warm, and he thought of how it felt like summer when he entered a room, and how the air was cold away from him, and his chest imploded into itself, and he decided not to go to class today. With the curtains drawn, he pulled a pillow over his face, and remembered when Dave was in his room last Monday, laying in his bed, touching this very pillow, and he breathed in deep, pushing it onto his face, trying to catch the Dior that Dave always wore, or the sweat of his skin, or the scent of his shampoo, but there was nothing. He breathed out, and a sob came up with it, and he let himself fall completely apart again; crying while life moved on, muffling his own sobs, stifling his sniffles, because if he belonged in Dave’s life, but Dave didn’t belong with him, then where did that leave them? In the grand scheme that was the Strider family picture, where did that put him? Next to Dave and his future wife? Under Dave’s arm where a hand grabbed his shoulder and a wedding band shone in his peripheral? In the corner like a half-hidden figure, a servant, or between Dave and Dirk like a third, illegitimate sibling? If Dave didn’t belong in his life, then whose life did he belong in? Turning around, he sandwiched his head between the two pillows and let his heart shatter. 

It was about half an hour before lunch break when a buzzing woke him up, shooting icicles through his flesh with a déjà vu, except it wasn’t Dave this time, or even a phone call. On the screen was a notification letting him know that, apparently, he had been added to a group chat called  _ raise tha roof! _ alongside all of the Strilondes and John Egbert. He couldn’t read any of the past messages that had been sent there, but he could see that it had been created over five years ago, and Roxy and Dave were both administrators. He only knew that because of their profile pictures, not because he had anyone’s phone number besides Dave’s, but it wasn’t hard to guess that it was Roxy who had added him, and Roxy who welcomed him right after, asking him if he’d have lunch with them today, because they’d be going to Subway. That instantly brought him back to the first time that he had ever even talked to these guys, getting invited to lunch by Egbert and feeling really weird the whole time there. God, what was that, a month ago? It felt like an eternity now, with how much things had changed, and how much better he had gotten to know everyone. If he had never accepted that first invitation, how much disaster would he have avoided? How much better off would Dave have been without ever really knowing him? How much better off would  _ he _ have been without ever getting close to Dave at all? Loads, and loads, and loads, but he’d never know what it’d feel like to have Dave on his face, and hold him close with a hand behind his neck, and have his sweat on his own skin and his tongue down his throat, hips in between his legs, cock hard against his stomach. He shut his eyes and set his jaw, wiping the imagery off of his mind, heart punching him in the ribs. If he had never gotten close to Dave, he would’ve never known what it was like to have friends;  _ real _ friends, who cared about him, and invited him out to lunch, and wanted to know if he was okay. 

With his eyes watering, he replied positively to Roxy’s invitation, because they  _ cared, _ and he needed someone right now. A friend, or more than one. He’d never say this out loud, but he was kind of looking forward to seeing Dirk today. The phone call last night hung over him like a noose, and he desperately needed to tell Dirk about it; to hear some sort of comfort, to get a read on Dave’s angle, to have his own rage and heartbreak validated by the only one who could relate to it. Dirk always had something to say and it usually made him feel better. Just as Roxy and the others cheered at his RSVP, though, Dirk told them that he already had plans with Jake for lunch, and would only see them after class. That cut through him like a knife to the chest, but it was fine; he’d see Dirk later. At the very least, Dave wouldn’t be there. 

Showered and dressed and carrying a pit the size of the sun in his stomach, wondering what was even the point of literally anything anymore, he left the building and walked to campus. Roxy said that they’d be waiting for him near Gate A, and Dave’s complete absence from the group chat, or even the mere mention of his presence was extremely relieving, because his soul currently rested in purgatory, and he didn’t exactly feel like seeing the angel that had put him there. At Gate A, as expected, Dave thankfully wasn’t around, but everybody else was, and they all greeted him with smiles on their faces before proceeding to walk to Subway together, without hounding him with questions about why he had skipped class or why he looked like shit. Okay, maybe that last one was a little subjective, but he knew that they knew about his absence this morning, because the whole internet had already caught onto it. So far, the spotlight only brought him observers and watchers and gossip, with nothing really positive about it, but the Lalondes didn’t mention anything, and he kept it that way. Instead, they talked about last night, and what each of them thought about the whole spectacle; if they believed in what Crocker had said, and if Jake could really be trusted. Back to basics, and, honestly, he was glad for it. 

The first to give them all her opinion on the matter, of course, was Roxy. She thought that Jake was scummy, going around Dirk the way he did, never even telling him about Crocker in the first place, but still insisting on the fact that he had changed. A cheater was a cheater was a cheater and she didn’t think that anything would’ve fixed that. Egbert wondered if it was really cheating if Dirk and Jake hadn’t really been dating, not technically. Roxy believed that it was, because they were clearly involved in some romantic way, even if it wasn’t official. If it wasn’t cheating, then why had Jake hidden his affair with Crocker like a secret? Innocent men had nothing to hide. She made a good point, but hadn’t Jake said something about never having slept with the two of them at the same time? Egbert wasn’t sure, but he remembered something like that being brought up. Roxy shrugged, saying that she didn’t know the ins and outs of their relationship, only that Jake had a past with cheating and being with women despite his involvement with Dirk, and that whole Jane Crocker situation just wasn’t a good look for him. What did Rose think? She seemed quiet. Well, she just didn’t have much to say on this, because she wasn’t really sure yet what exactly she thought about it. She wanted to agree with Dave and trust Dirk’s judgement on this relationship, but there was so much to consider regarding their past, and there was so much evidence pointing to how Jake hadn’t actually changed that she wasn’t sure what to think. Mostly, she trusted Dave and  _ his _ judgement of Dirk, because he knew Dirk a lot better than everybody else did, and if Dave said that Dirk could handle it this time, then she couldn’t really doubt that. Currently, that was where she found herself on the matter, although it was strange that Dave hadn’t made a single comment about it this morning. She thought that he would’ve at least brought it up with Dirk over breakfast, but the most he did was ask him how he was doing; how he was feeling, to which Dirk was so vague and absent-minded that she thought Dave would  _ surely _ point it out, but he didn’t. Little weird inconsistencies like that prevented her from really settling on a hard-set opinion. 

“Come to think of it, Dave was acting really strange this morning, as well.” She continued, now seated at a booth near the front of the restaurant, delicately unwrapping her sandwich. “Not to say that he’s been in very good shape these days, but he looked considerably fucked up over breakfast. Worth noting, at least.” 

At that, Karkat almost fucking barked out a laugh, but managed to simply choke on his Coke a little bit instead. Heh. 

“He almost looked drunk, like, when it lasts all night and sort of lingers the following morning, you know?” Roxy commented thoughtfully, crumbling up the strips of her sandwich’s wrapping in a little ball. 

“Do you remember seeing him get home last night?” 

“No, but the car still wasn’t there when we arrived from Karkat’s building, so he must’ve stayed out late.” 

Alright, Dave clearly hadn’t told anyone about his adventures yesterday, and they all seemed really worried about him... Should Karkat just tell them? Rose wasn’t giving him her usual snark about whatever it was that had happened between them, or was still currently happening between them; at this point, he didn’t know, he wasn’t sure, and it didn’t matter. She wasn’t suspicious, or trying to prod him for anything, and it almost made this feel like a safe enough environment to share Dave’s little secret with her, but should he? Well, on a second thought here, why the fuck shouldn’t he? Dave wasn’t even in his life, right? That was what he had said. They weren’t even together; Dave had only called him last night in a selfish act to hear his voice again, not to give him any real thought or attention or consideration, so, really, he might as well repay the fucking favor, huh.  _ Fuck _ Dave. 

“He went to Dallas yesterday.” He commented easily, making himself sound conversational enough as to not attract Rose’s conspiracy theories right away. It did get the table’s attention, of course, but in more of a surprised way rather than outrageously suspicious, which was what he had been going for. Good. 

“He told you that?” Asked damn near in disbelief. 

“Yeah, he called me last night. Or, at three in the morning, so a handful of hours ago. He was really fucking drunk.” 

“What was he doing drunk in Dallas, of all places?” 

“He said he was partying and just pretty much fucking around. He wanted to be away from everybody, where no one knew him. I think he skipped town all goddamn day.” 

“Why? We haven’t been pressuring him at all about anything. Actually, we’ve been giving him more than enough space this whole time without even  _ asking _ him about it, so what was he running from? Who are the people that he’s avoiding?”

“I have a few guesses.” He commented carelessly, shrugging while chewing, and this chicken teriyaki was surprisingly delicious. It didn’t matter just how much indifference he showcased about that, though; he knew it’d have everyone’s eyes doubling up in size anyway, leaning closer to him on the table, and he was right. They watched him eat as if he were a divine apparition on Earth. 

“Is he avoiding you?” Rose asked, sounding a lot more interested in this than she probably cared to admit. To that, he nodded, making her eyes shine. 

“Yes, definitely, but, also, I think he’s avoiding Pyrope, too. I think their little roughhousing made him too embarrassed to see her again. At least, for now.” 

“What are you talking about? What roughhousing?” 

“You know.” A bounce of the brows to go with that and fully indicate what he was alluding to, but their puzzled expressions had his heart skipping, eyes growing one size larger. “Oh, you  _ don’t _ know. God, of  _ course _ you don’t know; he’s not even talking to Dirk! Dude, he fucked Terezi two days ago.” 

A round of shocked gasps and hanging jaws and wide eyes. 

“You’re shitting me.” 

“He’s not a virgin anymore?!” 

Alright, no more secrets; it was all coming out now. Fuck it. Fuck it! He shook his head and licked his lips. 

“Rose, he hasn’t been a virgin since Monday. We slept together in the dorm.” 

_ “What?!” _ Asked in a choir of surprise and shock, with the three of them staring at him as if he were from another planet. 

“So you  _ are _ together.” Spoken almost absently, passing through Rose’s lips as she struggled to process all of this earth-shattering, hot off the press information. Before he could refute that claim, though, Roxy spoke over him, loud, with furrowed brows and a tone to her voice that took right after his own heart, on the cusp of the exact emotion that had been plaguing him since it all happened, making his pulse skip, eyes going wide with kinship. 

“Wait, he slept with you on Monday, and then immediately slept with Terezi right after that?” 

“Yeah, like, two days later. We’re not together, by the way, and she’s been sort of single recently, so, yeah. Whatever, right? He can do whatever he wants. I mean, technically.” 

“Okay,  _ technically, _ but should he?” 

“Honestly? No, he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t have done that at all.” 

“What was agreed on Monday after you were intimate with each other?” Rose asked, sandwich temporarily forgotten, ice melting in their cups. 

“Nothing. Literally nothing was agreed, Rose, because we haven’t talked about it. We  _ don’t _ talk about it. It’s like it never even happened, except it totally did.” 

“Dude, that’s so uncool.” Egbert, flabbergasted, eyes wide. 

“Wait, so he slept with you, and then ghosted you, and then immediately slept with Terezi the moment she and Vriska broke up?” Roxy, gradually growing angrier, a fire in her eyes that strongly resonated with absolutely everything inside of him right now, making his heart beat in solidarity, veins running hot. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what he did, and you know what the kicker is?” Asked rhetorically as the endless pit in his stomach burned and acid ate him up inside, coming up his throat like poison. His question had everybody leaning closer, eyes open wide, the comfort and sympathy that he had been needing this whole ass week. “When he called me last night, he said that I belong to him, like a dime that he picked up off the street, but that he’s not even in my life. Like, I’m his, or whatever, but he’s not mine. It  _ doesn’t _ go both ways.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“And he said that right after sleeping with Terezi.” 

“Did he even apologize?” 

A spontaneous, bitter laugh. 

“No! God, no, he didn’t apologize. As fucking if, dude. I told you, we haven’t talked about it at all. He’s been ghosting me this whole time, like, we’ll talk, sure, but it’s never about what really matters. I don’t even know if there’s anything between us in the first place.” 

“This is so fucked up. Why would Dave do something like that?” 

A shrug, lifeless and grim, because, honestly, he didn’t have the answer to that, either. 

“He says he’s confused, and trying to figure out where he fits in all of this, but he doesn’t want to talk to anyone about it, apparently. He doesn’t even want to know what I think about it. It’s like he wants to do this all by himself somehow.” 

“Fascinating.” 

“What a fucking dickhead. I never thought he’d be capable of something so fucked up. I thought...” Here, Roxy trailed off, shaking her head, a deep scowl on her forehead. 

“After everything that’s happened between his brother and Jake and his firsthand contact with the effects of long-term psychological damage to a victim of miscommunication and cheating, you’d think Dave would be the first to get his act together and  _ not _ pull a Jake on his eventual partner.” Thoughtful and pensive and he could almost see the machinations in Rose’s mind working, the gears that turned in her brain, a glint of excitement in her eyes. “Perhaps Jake’s ingrained homophobia was instilled into him somehow? He might not even have noticed it in the first place, being in such close contact with the man that he had once looked up to, after all. In some way, his mind must’ve held Jake to a standard of masculinity that he himself might’ve striven for without even realizing it. I mean, why  _ else _ would he so desperately seek Terezi for a sexual encounter right after losing his virginity to a man, if not to reassure himself of his own heterosexuality, or his attraction to girls as a whole? We all know why Jake was doing it, so why should Dave feel any differently about it?” 

“Dirk warned me about this.” He blurted out absently, a passing memory of their conversations coming back to mind. “He said that Dave would ghost me and date girls and that’s  _ exactly _ what he’s doing. This is exactly what Dirk went through.” 

“I thought he’d be better than Jake.” Roxy commented bitterly, picking her cup up for a sip. 

“Indeed, he seems to be mimicking a lot of the behavior that Jake displayed when confronted with his own attraction to men in the past, which Dave had expressed open disgust toward at the time, but which he must’ve internalized anyway, and, now, being faced with much of the same situation that Jake had found himself in before, his mind is reverting to the only way that he knows how to deal with it; the only way that he’s seen somebody else do it before. He’s pulling a Jake without even realizing it.” 

“There’s  _ no way _ he doesn’t realize it. It’s impossible! He’s running from Karkat and shutting him down; he’s doing it on purpose. How would he do that without thinking about it? He knows exactly what he’s doing and he clearly doesn’t want to hear it.” 

“But why would he? Why would he willingly and purposefully put Karkat through what almost took his brother’s life? I don’t think he realizes any of it. Maybe he does see the small choices that he’s been making, but I don’t think he sees the bigger picture here; how religiously he’s been re-enacting Jake’s past. I really don’t think he sees the resemblance.” 

A sound coming from the front doors, and they all turned to see Dave walk in, making his heart skip, eyes damn near rolling into his skull at it. Not only his, but Roxy’s, as well, from the look on her face, extremely displeased at her cousin’s appearance. He had never really felt any which way for Roxy before, but, right now, the kinship that enveloped the two of them; the empathy that she had shown him and his story and the stance that she had taken toward it, jumping to his defense, siding with him against her own cousin; it filled him with the sort of comfort that he could’ve only ever dreamed about; that expanded his chest and made his heart beat and lessened the weight from his shoulders, because he wasn’t alone in this anymore. He wasn’t wrong to feel everything that he had been feeling, and he wasn’t wrong to seek comfort from others, either; to share his story, and lessen the burden, and look for help. This was Dave’s story as much as it was his own, and he didn’t care if he was violating Dave’s privacy by telling it, because, from what he could see, Dave hadn’t given him a single thought since Monday, so fuck it. He wasn’t a bad person for doing it. 

By the time Dave got his food and took a seat, the only one available at the end of the table, next to Rose, and, unfortunately, Karkat himself, not a single word was being spoken. They ate and drank in silence, keeping their eyes mostly down at their own sandwiches, only offering Dave a brief glance when he sat down and greeted everybody in passing, aviator shades locking onto Karkat’s face right after. It made his heart skip and his eyes drop down to his own plate, inadvertently taking the stance of the table, and pretty much just keeping to himself. He didn’t want to talk to Dave at all, and would give him the cold shoulder anyway, but the fact that everybody else here was doing the same caught him by surprise. Why weren’t they talking to him like usual? Were they mad at him, too? He wasn’t sure, but decided against breaking this sacred moment of kinship and just kept eating. 

“I talked to Terezi today.” Dave commented, voice smooth and low and he knew that that was addressed to him, but still refused to glance up to see his own reflection on Ray-Bans right now, resorting to a silent bounce of the brows instead. It was enough acknowledgement to have Dave continue. “We’re back on friendly terms. Everything’s fine between us, like nothing ever even happened. It’s chill. We’re friends again.” 

Clearly and obviously, Dave wasn’t Jake, but he still couldn’t help wondering what that meant exactly; if it meant what normal people meant when saying it, or if it meant what Jake meant when saying it. At this point, it could mean anything, as well as nothing at all, so what was Dave talking about? What kind of benefits did being friends with Pyrope bring him? He knew what it meant for him being friends with Dave, and their involvement had been compared to Dave’s relationship with Pyrope multiple times by Dave himself, so what was the difference between them? What did being friends with her mean, when they were quote, unquote,  _ best friends _ but Dave still treated him like a lap dog? Okay, sure, part of that was definitely because he didn’t stand up for himself and just let Dave do whatever he wanted, but it wasn’t  _ all _ on him. Dave had his own share of responsibilities, too. 

“Really.” Roxy added in next, flat and disinterested, seeming to be really over Dave and everything that he had to say right now, which, honestly, took after Karkat’s own heart one hundred percent. “Well, what does that even mean?” 

“Uh, Terezi and I had a sort of fight a while back, and it really made things weird between us, but she showed up at my building today, and we ended up talking it out. It’s all cool now.” 

“And was that fight before or after you fucked her brains out?” 

Stunned silence from the entire table, and he had to look now, to see the look on Dave’s face; just a little glance to catch his parted lips and beet-red face, staring at his cousin as if he had just been stabbed. The aviator shades did very little to hide the complete shock that overtook him just now, and if Karkat wasn’t in complete control of himself, he would’ve burst out laughing. This was pure gold. Roxy might just be his favorite person. 

“What are you talking about?” Small and weak and Karkat turned to look at Roxy next to him, at the deep scowl on her face and the fire in her eyes. It made his heart sing. 

“Okay, let’s see. I’m talking about when you fucked Terezi two days after fucking Karkat and treating the two of them like your personal fucking groupies. So was this fight before you fucked her, or after? Was it the result of you fucking her, maybe? Did she kind of fucking hate it?” 

“What?” No follow up to that, just a confused and shocked silence, which no one at this table dared to challenge. Not even Rose, who, until a moment ago, seemed to be on Dave’s side. Maybe that wasn’t so true, after all. 

“Did she confront you after you took advantage of her fragile emotional state instead of being a real friend, and is that why things got weird? Because you made them weird, or because she didn’t let you get away with it?” 

“That’s not what happened.” 

“Did she forgive you? Is that what she had to tell you just now, and why you’re friends again? Does she still trust you as her friend?” 

“Stop making shit up.” A pause, and Dave moved, but he still refused to look, eyes trained down at his own sandwich, kind of like the campers in horror movies that hid inside their tents while horrific monsters stalked outside, trying to lure them out. “What the fuck did you tell them? What kind of fucked up story did you tell them, huh? Look at me, Karkat; I’m  _ talking _ to you.” 

His breathing hitched, his skin shuddered, and he was one word away from shutting his eyes entirely, shoulders drawn up to his ears. 

“He didn’t tell us anything.” Roxy, swooping in for the rescue. “I had a hunch, and I went with it, and you just confirmed everything that I was thinking about you. You are your own snitch.” 

“Okay, look. Terezi and I, what we did was her choice. I didn’t take advantage of her;  _ she _ wanted it. It was  _ her _ idea. She missed Vriska, and I was her rebound, alright? Don’t spread that shit around. It’s not me.” 

“So you conveniently happened to be in the right place at the right time to be her rebound.” 

“I had been helping her through it for longer than that. It just happened.” 

“Sure, it happened, and it made things a little weird, didn’t it? So she approached you, and you guys talked it out, and you’re best friends again. How easy and simple; why can’t you do the same with Karkat?” 

“The same what? There’s nothing to talk about; our shit’s different.” 

“Huh, I can think of at least one thing you need to talk about, but, hey, it wasn’t a rebound situation, right? It’s  _ completely _ different! I’m sure things are  _ not _ weird between you guys at all.” 

“No, everything’s fine.” 

“Do you remember calling me last night?” The question escaped his lips before he could regret asking it, heart skipping with it. 

“Yeah, of course I do.” 

“Then how can you pretend everything’s fine?” Here, he finally glanced up to meet with the shades that watched him, staring directly at him, not a single emotion or expression on Dave’s face. It almost reminded him of Dirk, but even Dirk had more of a heart than that. 

“Dave, did you see the gifs that people are uploading to Sub Rosa’s Facebook page?” Egbert from the corner in a desperate attempt to change the topic and break the tension. It worked in that it had Dave turning to glance at him next, still stoic and emotionless. “I think Jake confirmed his presence yesterday, so everyone’s just posting edited gifs and videos of last night’s kiss in response to it. Five hundred other people have already confirmed their presence, too; it’s gonna be crazy.” 

“What kiss?” 

“You don’t…? Just check Facebook, dude. I don’t know how you’ve gone so long without looking at it.” 

Leaning back on his seat, Dave pulled out his phone and fiddled with it, but Karkat turned away from him, heart racing in his chest, unable to coexist next to him right now, because  _ how _ didn’t they have what to talk about? How was everything just fine and good, when Dave, just last night, told him that he essentially meant the world to him, but also wasn’t good enough to have Dave be in his life, as well? When Dave explicitly said that being with him ruined his experiences with anybody else, and that he was essentially the reason why Dave couldn’t be with Pyrope, the girl of his dreams, his one and only. How the fuck was he supposed to live with that without ever talking about it? How was  _ Dave _ coping with that all by himself? Well, if he took all of this week into consideration, then not well, but still Dave didn’t think that they had anything to talk about. Sure. Or did he just say that to get his cousin off his back? Honestly, at this point, Karkat had no fucking idea, and just proceeded to finish his sandwich while Dave seemed to have absolutely no opinion on his brother’s kiss with the guy who everybody hated. He did ask them what happened, but, after hearing all of their accounts, still didn’t seem to give a single shit about it. All that was uttered was a small  _ huh _ before Dave scooted closer to the table and finally unwrapped his sandwich. 

Normal conversation eventually resumed, with Egbert talking about Sub Rosa and his excitement for it, and slowly hyping everybody up, even if just a little bit. Roxy was a tough, tough crowd, but she ended up coming around and humoring her non-boyfriend about how she thought it would go, what she would wear, and what they would have before going. Rose was actually the last one to finally adhere to the conversation, spending most of her time very pensively listening to it instead, and frequently glancing over to her cousin, which Karkat took as bad news for Dave later on, because she definitely had something in mind, which she would surely voice at some point. Maybe when they were all too intoxicated to lie. 

Back on campus, they all split up with excited goodbyes after passing through the gate to walk to their own buildings, except for Dave, who decided to accompany him along the gravel path through trees and bushes instead, just the two of them alone, away from the others, making his heart skip. He told Dave that he didn’t have to walk him; that he knew the way back to ECE just fine, but Dave insisted that he wanted to, so he promptly dropped it. It was easier to just not make a huge deal about it, and let Dave exist next to him for a while, even if it crushed his chest into its own ribs and squeezed his heart into a fist. He kept his face turned away, watching the students that came and went from their respective buildings instead of looking at Dave, and how the sunshine made his hair look like gold and his skin like warm sand and inadvertently have Ray-Bans watch him back. They might’ve been watching him right now, anyway; he decided against checking. He didn’t want to know. 

When they arrived, he uttered a small goodbye while walking straight ahead in a swift attempt at an escape, but was stopped right away by a hand on the elbow that grabbed it just as he tried to slink away from Dave’s side, holding him back. 

"Hey, listen--" Dave tried, voice low, almost bringing him back to a memory, to a time, but one that he refused to remember, and, instead, yanked his arm away from Dave’s grasp. 

"I have to go to class.” He explained in a curt, harsh voice, a little exasperated because he hadn’t been expecting Dave to touch him and it kind of fucked him up. “Sorry." Spewed past his lips reflexively, just because his heart ached when they broke apart, and it felt unfair. It was his fault, but it wasn’t. 

Still avoiding to make eye contact with a pair of glasses, he excused himself toward the building, waddling to it as fast as his little legs would take him while his chest constricted, and pierced him with his own ribs, and his shoulders shielded his ears with how high they held themselves. He wished that Dirk were here, and would put an arm around him to pull him safely away from Dave’s general vicinity, but he doubted that Dirk would even come back to class after having lunch with his new boyfriend, because who would? On a Friday afternoon a handful of hours before going to the club, who would? Just before he reached the building doors, however, Dave called out his name, making him stop dead on his tracks and just kind of stand there, telling himself not to turn around, fighting against every urge to not do it, because Dave sounded like he had in the kitchen two weeks ago, hugging him and breathing into his neck and comforting him about the kiss when he still thought that Dirk would beat him up for it, and that was the Dave that he had fallen in love with. Kind, compassionate, sweet, that had an innocent crush on Pyrope but hadn’t slept with her, that was determined to make friends with him, that didn’t call him a best friend before plunging a dagger into his chest. Did that Dave still exist? Under the hurt and the confusion, deep within the crevices of Dave’s heart, did he still remember what it felt like to be considerate? Slowly, and because he could never turn his back on Dave, he turned back around only to see Dave with a glow stick in his hand, bent into a circle, arm extended with the offer. Right, the bracelet. He walked over to take it; to accept the gift and brush their fingers together and feel the warmth of Dave’s skin on his own again, heart jumping up to his throat. The surface of the pink neon tube was smooth, and he felt it on his hand, running a thumb along its length. 

"Why didn't you just say you like Pepsi better?" He asked, almost absently, glancing up to meet with the Ray-Bans that watched him. 

A shrug from Dave, loose and careless. 

"Because I changed my mind."

And that was that. 

“Are you coming with us after class?” 

“Yeah, I am.” Because of course he would, even if he didn’t want Dave to be there, even if it was going to be an absolute shit-show; he’d be there to see it. 

“Alright; I’ll see you at Gate C, then.” 

A nod from him, and Dave turned to leave. In his hand, the bracelet bent and stretched, growing warm from the contact with his skin, getting squeezed and pressed on gently as he fiddled with it, absently, on the way back to the building. He didn’t wear it, but he didn’t throw it away, either. Something about it kept him touching it and pinching it and thinking back to when their hands had brushed together and almost even lingered, how Dave always lingered before leaving, something in the air between them not being said. In the end, he shoved it into a pocket, keeping his hand safely over it, touching it, pressing it to his palm. 


	21. Sub Rosa

At Gate C, he was one of the last ones to arrive, having everybody watch him as he walked over, his eyes glancing across the group and immediately noticing that Dirk wasn’t there yet. His heart sunk, and flattened, because Dirk had said that they’d meet up after class, but he hadn’t seen him in the building all afternoon, and he wasn’t even here as the last one to arrive, when he was usually one of the first. His blood ran cold with the thought that Dirk wasn’t going to make it, and would leave him to deal with his shit alone now that Dirk had his boyfriend back and virtually no reason to hang around him anymore. Their friendship had lasted two days, but he had never really been Dirk’s priority, or even best friend; that spot had always been Jake’s, even while the guy was away, and he had no chance of fighting for it. He didn’t even want to; after all, Dave was  _ his _ best friend, and there could only be one, but still he didn’t think that Dirk would’ve switched him out so quickly. In retrospect, he had no idea why he had ever put himself on par with Jake when it came to Dirk’s attention. They would never be on the same level, and thinking so was just bizarre, but he still wished that Dirk would at least have told them in the group chat that he wasn’t coming, so he could have had the chance to have done the same. He didn’t think that he’d be able to get through this party by himself. 

Standing next to Dave with calamity looming over his head, he watched everyone shift their eyes from him to the spot right behind him, making him turn to see Dirk come up next, hands in his pockets, splint matching with the color of his pants. His heart skipped and fluttered and the clouds over him parted, but he didn’t go in for the hug, even though his legs damn near bounced where he stood, barely keeping him in place. Hugs had never even been a thing between them; he didn’t know why he had been inadvertently trying to make them a thing in the first place, but, either way, he might have actually succeeded, because Dirk walked up to him unprompted and hugged him entirely of his own volition regardless, squeezing him in big, strong arms that pushed his face into Dirk’s pecs and pretty much crushed his bones. It was a good hug, just not one that he had been expecting, but that he still reciprocated with two arms around Dirk’s midsection and a small squeeze of his own. He had never thought that he would’ve ever known what it would be like to asphyxiate on Dirk’s pecs, but, in the moment, it felt like a surprisingly glorified death, even if it did beg the question of whether Dirk had ever hugged anyone before, or even really knew what a hug was in practice. Letting go of him, Dirk took a step back to let him breathe and the strong scent of oranges and cedar wood that enveloped him made him realize that Dirk didn’t have a single trace of vermouth or vetiver leaves or bergamot on him, meaning that Jake must not have done anything nefarious over lunch. Good; leave it to tonight. He needed Dirk for now. 

“I need to talk to you later.” He commented as they parted, having pointy shades glance down at him in response. 

“Same here.” 

When he turned to look at the others, he noticed that the trio had already started off for the parking lot, while Dave still stood right there next to them, immobilized in place, watching them without a single word spoken or a single emotion on his face. Maybe behind the shades, and, in that case, successfully hidden. It was kind of weird to have him stare like that, and made him feel really self-conscious all of a sudden, because maybe hugging Dirk like that wasn’t okay, even if everybody else didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Dirk must’ve noticed Dave staring, too, because he slung an arm across Karkat’s shoulders and pulled him close before starting off for the parking lot, uttering a nonchalant  _ c’mon _ to have him follow. Instinctively, and just because it felt natural, he hugged Dirk’s waist with an arm and walked with him to the car, tucked comfortably under his wing with cedar wood enveloping his every sense and oranges filling up his lungs. It was definitely weird, and a new development to their friendship, but he wasn’t sure if it was really a bad thing. Glancing up at Dirk to pass him a look, delicate blonde eyebrows bounced back in response, successfully acknowledging the fact that they were definitely doing something here; he just didn’t know exactly what. 

Arriving at where the car was parked, Dave walked up to the driver’s door and called for him to come over for a minute, which was, admittedly, a little weird, because what did Dave have to tell him that had to be shared while on the other side of the car from everybody else?, but he left Dirk’s wing to comply, anyway, because he was an idiot, and also a little too curious. Circling the front of the car, he joined Dave by the driver’s side, and watched him unlock it before pulling the door open, as if doing it for him, like a butler to a rich person’s limousine. Holding the driver’s door open, Dave motioned to it. 

“C’mon, the middle seat’s yours.” 

“Uh.” What the fuck? “Thanks?” Sort of mumbled as he got in and slid across the driver’s seat to the old timey, now extinct middle seat between the driver and the passenger. To his surprise, Dirk took the seat next to him, while Dave took the wheel, of course, sandwiching him between the Striders in what was possibly the weirdest way to get here, because he had a feeling that he’d be getting onto the front seat with Dirk, anyway, so Dave didn’t have to do all of that. What even was that? The longest possible way around to this exact scenario, apparently. Dave could’ve just let him get in with Dirk, except he couldn’t, really, because wasn’t Karkat supposed to be by  _ his _ side, under  _ his _ wing, in  _ his _ half of the picture? Was it really necessary to have opened the door for him just to make one hundred percent sure that he’d be sitting next to Dave on the drive to his place? Maybe the possibility of Karkat getting the window seat with Dirk in between them was worse than anything else, and Dave just had to make double sure that that wasn’t going to happen. Had the hug really bothered him that much? 

Sitting next to him in the car, Dirk made a joke of running into him by accident, because they hadn’t seen each other in so long, oh my god! How was he? How were the kids? Dirk was dumb, but it all got a chuckle out of him, anyway. 

“Bro, do you want to be in me?” Asked as Dirk pulled out his phone from a pocket, promptly getting wide eyes and raised brows from him in response, because what the  _ fuck? _ That couldn’t have been an accident, there was no way. There was no way! He was absolutely speechless right now. “In my  _ selfie, _ is what I mean. Wanna be in my selfie, bro?” 

At his left, he didn’t have to look to notice Dave watching them despite reversing the car out of the spot, and it clicked, right then and there, that Dirk was doing this on purpose. He was  _ trying _ to get on Dave’s nerves, and, honestly, right now, that plan sounded good to him. In fact, it sounded like the exact kind of medicine that the doctor had prescribed. 

“Hell yeah, I wanna be in you, bro! Tap that flash!” 

Leaning closer to Dirk, and once again finding himself under Dirk’s arm, he made a face and had Dirk take the selfie. 

“If you’re posting it, tag me.” He added, having Dirk pull his arm back and pull up Instagram. 

“You know I am, bro. Riding home with my best friend Karkat.” 

“Is that the caption?” 

“Are you guys taking selfies?” Asked from the back seat, to the rustling of fabric and a tug on his headrest with Roxy’s approach. 

“Yeah. Do you want to be in it?” 

“Fuck yeah, we do! All of us, c’mon.” 

Everybody in the back seat leaned closer to the front; he could feel just how crowded his immediate surroundings became all of a sudden, but posed for the selfie anyway, crossing his eyes and showing off his teeth, whatever. He never took pictures, didn’t know how to hold a smile, and it didn’t matter; he was having fun. The Striders were the ones who put absolutely zero effort into it, without a single smile, or even raised up brows, so he validated himself for at least trying. A couple of selfies later, the people in the back resumed their respective seats, and Dirk proceeded to tag everyone in the post that would soon become absolutely legendary; liked and commented by the thousands, talked about all across campus. It blew up by the time they got home. 

Roxy wasted no time in mixing everybody martinis, mojitos, cosmopolitans and margaritas, all with her own twist on them while Dave set up a playlist and everybody else got comfortable in the living room; sitting on the couch, sprawled out on the floor, using the throw pillows for back support. They drank, and talked about the kiss last night, and promptly asked Dirk about his lunch with Jake earlier today. He said it was nice, that Jake cooks now, and that they’re officially dating. Mild surprise from the group, because after that kiss they were already kind of expecting it, Karkat included, so it wasn’t that big of a shock, although it still made an impact. He said that Jake was coming to the club with them later, and would swing by for a ride. Nods and agreements to that while Dave moved his glass around to make its contents swirl, Ray-Bans sort of pointed down at them the entire time. In thought? In pensiveness? Festering? Dave was impossible to read, and he guessed that that was entirely intentional on his part. 

“So Jake’s your boyfriend now, and Karkat’s your new best friend?” Voice low and inquisitive with an underlying emotion to it that Karkat couldn’t really identify, but it was harsh on Dave’s tongue, almost like sanding metal. 

“He’s more like a confidante.” Dirk clarified, bringing his cup up for a sip. “You know, someone that you tell secrets to and then blow to clear the air afterwards. Don’t wanna make it awkward.” 

“It works because it’s requited.” He added, eyes locked with aviator shades. “Sometimes he has something to say, and sometimes I do. It goes both ways.” 

“True; we both get to blow, so it’s fair.” 

“The world of men never ceases to amaze me.” Roxy commented lightly, one drop of irony to stir into her drink. “Why don’t we play Ring of Fire today? We haven’t done it with Karkat yet.” 

“Man, we sure haven’t.” 

“What’s that?” He asked, sipping leisurely on his strawberry mojito. 

“It’s a drinking game. Basically, we have a deck of cards and an empty cup in the middle of the circle. We each take turns drawing a card, and performing the rules that that card corresponds to. I’m not going to tell you what they all are right now, but we pretty much have them memorized, so you don’t have to worry about that.” 

“What’s the cup in the middle for?” 

“It’s for one of the cards. When we draw that one, I’ll tell you what it does.” 

A little ominous, but everybody seemed very excited to play the game, so he decided to try it, if more for the others than himself. Hopefully, he wouldn’t end up making a fool of himself somehow, or, at the very least, not so early on. Already sitting on the ground, he didn’t really need to move, and, instead, had the ones on the couch come down to the floor, sitting in a circle with Dave snagging a spot right next to him before anybody could, because of course he would. If he couldn’t even humor the mere idea of Karkat riding home away from him, then there was no chance that he’d pass up sitting next to him for a drinking game. Because this was his first time playing, everyone let him draw the first card to start it off, so, with Dave on one side, and Dirk on the other, he flipped a card rightside up. Four of hearts. 

“All girls drink.” Dirk informed him from his left while both Rose and Roxy drank a sip from their respective cups. So far, the center cup remained untouched. 

On his right, Dave drew a new card. Eight of diamonds. 

“So, this one means I can choose a drinking buddy to keep up with me for the rest of the game, which, obviously, is going to be you.” 

“Awesome, Dave. Cool.” Flat and lifeless and entirely ironic, because this was the opposite of surprising. In fact, he didn’t even have to know the rules of the game to have guessed this one. “Thanks, man.” 

“No problem, dude.” 

Roxy was up next, drawing a seven of hearts. Immediately after doing that, she raised a finger pointed up at the ceiling, and had everybody else do the same. It was only when they all stared at him that he realized he should’ve done it, too. Fuck. 

“We’ll give you a pass because you don’t know the rules.” Rose, sweet and kind, having him exhale and his shoulders relax. “Which means Dave drinks next.” 

“Which also means Karkat drinks, anyway.” 

Ah, shit. Why did Dave have to get the worst fucking card, apparently? Two palms upturned to the ceiling from Rose in an expression that simply stated her powerlessness in regards to the rules of the game, and Dave clinked their plastic cups together in a one-sided toast before sipping from his own. Drinking the mojito, he mourned his own lack of luck in these games, which always seemed to go immediately against him, somehow. If he had to blame anybody in here, though, he blamed Dave. 

Egbert drew next, a two of diamonds. 

“So, I get to choose who drinks in my place.” Egbert explained, glancing at his left. “Roxy.” 

A brief glare was passed before Roxy took a sip of her martini. 

Rose, a two of clubs. 

“Ah! My dear cousin Dave, and, of course, Karkat, by association.” 

Goddammit. Another fucking sip while he slit his eyes at Rose and her wide, wicked smirk. She was doing this on purpose. 

At his left, Dirk drew a king of hearts. 

“Okay, Karkat, this is what you’ve been waiting for. A king means that D’s going to pour some of his drink in the empty cup in the middle.” Roxy explained while her cousin did just that, filling the cup with what must’ve been a shot worth of his Manhattan. “And every time you draw a king, you have to do that. When all four kings have been drawn, the last person who drew it has to drink the horrible concoction.” 

“Ugh, why couldn’t we all just have beer?” He asked, because the thought of mixing up four different cocktails in a single cup and then drinking it sounded absolutely disgusting. 

“Because making it gross is the point! Now draw.” 

Nasty ass. Flipping the closest card to himself over, he found a jack of spades. 

“Alright, so you have to make up a rule for us to follow until the end of the game.” Dave explained. “Just remember that you also have to follow it.” 

“A rule like what? Like scream every time it’s your turn?” 

“Yeah, like that. Is that the rule?” 

“No, that’s dumb! Let me think.” Okay, something stupid, but not that stupid. Bonus points if it’d make Dave uncomfortable. Ah! Turning to the crowd, he addressed them all collectively. “Alright, so every time we draw, we have to say something about Dave before we do it. Anything, true or false, whatever we want; it just has to be about him.” 

At his right, Dave gave him a look, watching him in his peripheral, but he forced himself not to look at him back. 

“Okay.” Dave muttered, moving next to him, which he supposed was Dave reaching for his next card. “I make awesome music.” A pause, and Dave clicked his tongue. “Man, look at that, a three of clubs. Guess you and I both have to drink, Karkat.” 

Fucking great. He was already tired of losing at this game. 

“Dave sucks at math.” Roxy stated next, drawing a card for herself. Six of clubs. “All boys drink.” 

Alright, that one was fair. He was at rest with that one. 

“Dave is my best friend.” Wow, really? Egbert coming out of the shadows to kiss some ass, look at that. It did beg the question, however, was  _ he _ Dave’s best friend, as well?, because things didn’t exactly go both ways when it came to this guy. Did Egbert know that? A flip, ace of clubs. 

“Ah, shit.” Murmured across the circle, and his heart skipped. That didn’t sound very good. 

“Okay, it’s okay. For this one, we all drink, and we have to keep drinking until our friend on the right stops. I drew the card, so I get to choose when I stop, and I do it first.” 

The friend on the right, huh. Dave “I’m fucking you over on purpose” Strider. Cool, so he’d probably get to drink the whole rest of his glass in a single go right now. Great stuff, very fair. He would never be ready, so whatever. At Egbert’s countdown, everyone lifted their glasses and started drinking. Egbert himself just took a couple of sips before putting it down, followed by Roxy,  _ not _ followed by Dave, of course, because red eyes watched him over the rim of Dave’s cup, and held the icy glare that he returned while the two of them, plus everybody else on his left, continued to drink. Just to piss him off personally, Dave finished his whole glass before bringing it down, forcing him and the other two to do the same. How considerate. His throat burned, his stomach was consumed by flames, and the world was hazy, wiggly, with a floaty aspect to it that made it spin faster than normal. It made him sick, but nothing came up. Victory. He would not be bested tonight. 

“I suppose that’s payback for my sins.” Rose commented through a grimace, and he wondered just how bitter that margarita really was. “Well, Dave’s surely not the most forgiving man in this circle, and that’s what I’ve got to say about him.” Spoken before she drew a five of hearts and immediately smacked her thumb on the ground. Karkat had no idea what the fuck she was doing, but copied her as fast as he could, just in time to catch everybody else doing the same. Yes! Raising an arm, Rose pointed across the circle at her cousin. “Dave, your reflexes have failed you once again.” 

A disingenuous shrug from Dave, with two palms up and a half-smirk that made him look like a jackass. 

“Uh-oh, guess Karkat and I are drinking again.” 

“You fucking asshole.” 

On purpose, of course; Dave had been doing all of this shit on purpose! This whole time!  _ Asshole! _ And he laughed just to rub it in, too, making Karkat’s stomach twist and burn, with a gorgeous smile on his face that squared out his jaw and lit him up and made Karkat want to fucking punch him, because he was so fucking annoying that his ridiculously good looks only served to piss Karkat off more. Goddammit, why did his blood boil and his hands closed into fists but his heart fluttered and his body burned for something else? Why did he want to grab Dave by the neck and push him down, but also sit on him and have his hands singe his skin? What even was Dave’s move here, anyway? To get him too drunk to tell where he was, or who he was with? For what? To make him not want to go to the club anymore? To get him drunk before everybody else? And then what, embarrass him in public? What would Dave even get out of that? No, Dave was a simple man, and that was all too complicated for him. In truth, he must’ve just been trying to piss Karkat off to get a laugh out of it the way middle school boys flirted; how they pushed girls and bit them to show that they cared, or maybe it was payback for the hug earlier, because it had really just gotten hard under his skin; because, deep down, Dave knew that his brother was a much better friend than he would ever be. Was that why everybody on campus liked Dirk more, and did it drive Dave crazy? Did he hate that Karkat had changed, and was now like everybody else? He had said that he only even liked Karkat because he wasn’t in love with Dirk and didn’t idolize the rest of them, after all. Except that he totally did, but Dave still hadn’t caught onto that, somehow. Or had he? 

Their cups were still empty from Dave’s last little funny bit, so, while Roxy got up to mix them all a second one, he leaned on Dirk’s shoulder, or tried to, but even sitting down Dirk was still taller than him, which ended up with him leaning on Dirk’s upper arm instead, eyes locked with aviator shades that watched him the whole time. Good. Sadistically good; wickedness covered in chocolate sprinkles. Maybe they both enjoyed this. 

“Since when are you two confidantes, huh?” Dave asked, an edge to his voice that made Karkat’s heart flutter and the ugliness in his chest grow. 

“Since we got to spend a lot of time together this week, almost like I was doing someone a big favor.” He explained, voice sweet and no bite, while Dirk wrapped an arm around him and let him get comfortable under his wing, head resting in the crook of Dirk’s neck. 

“You know, besides Jake, I think you’re the only one who’s ever gotten close to him like this.” Egbert to add insult to injury and just put a really big smile on his face. Dave must’ve been burning right now, even if nothing showed on the line of his lips, eyes hidden behind the shades. 

“Probably.” Dirk shrugged, keeping him close. Sure, this was all just a big show to piss Dave off right now, and they weren’t actually this handsy with each other at all, but the essence of it was still true, in that their united front was always too self-absorbed to really do anybody else any good, and was far too obsessed with getting on Dave’s nerves for no particular reason. He didn’t exactly know why Dirk was doing it, but it sure as fuck was fun. 

With their cups refilled and Roxy once again seated, the game resumed, going on for about three other rounds with shitty rules, waning attention spans, and Dave purposefully making himself drink to rope Karkat into it, as well. Dumb fun and deep vexation were the perfect descriptions for the wave of emotions that hit him every five minutes, on and off, while the cup in the middle got filled with varying mixtures of whiskey, vodka, rum and gin until Egbert drew the last king and had to drink it all. The horror on his face was practically tangible, and the toil of each sip just helped to screw his horror into a hard grimace and make his eyes water while the crowd chanted  _ drink! drink! drink!  _ around him and laughed. It was an incredible sight seeing him actually finish the cup off, because Karkat honestly didn’t think that he’d be able to, even if he placed both hands on the floor and hunched over afterwards as if about to heave and vomit it all out, which ended up not actually happening. In his head, he hadn’t taken Egbert for the kind to keep up with everybody else’s heavy drinking for some reason, but the mere fact that he could never pass up a good time to party really hard should’ve been indication enough, even if he generally looked too innocent to be hanging around these guys. 

That unlikely success was promptly followed by music and dancing with everybody up on their feet, fire in the pit of their throats, and a sickening spin to the entirety of the room. It was warm, and close, and the world twirled the more he danced, making him sweat, and hyperventilate, and feel his heart race in his chest. His jacket was quickly discarded to make this feel less like death and more like a party, thrown carelessly onto the couch as his feet moved and his knees bent and his arms tried to tie it all together. He couldn’t see himself, or know exactly just how stupid he looked right now, which was pretty much the only way that he could actually enjoy himself instead of being mortified by the mere prospect of even trying to loosen up, mildly aware of the people in his immediate surroundings, but still accidentally bumping into them, anyway. One accidental bump into Roxy had her pulling him into her personal space for a dance, which he took in perfect stride and did his best to keep up. Her hips moved, her shoulders shook, her hair whipped up and to the side and she kind of looked like a goddess, dancing as if in a Lady Gaga video clip, moving like a popstar. She had a pink, shiny eyeshadow on that grew darker the further it was away from her nose, and shimmered as she moved, shining like glitter under the light. It was kind of mesmerizing and he only realized that he had been staring when pink eyes glanced down at him and gave him a wink. That had him immediately looking away, glancing off to find Dave not too far from him, Ray-Bans turned ever so slightly in his direction. Of course, closely watched every step of the way. It really made him wonder which one of them was constantly surrounded by the paparazzi, and, on a thoughtless act to piss Dave off while he could see it, he turned to Roxy and gave her a big hug. 

She was way taller than him, especially in heels; practically Dirk’s height with those on, which landed his face square on her tits, and had him immediately regretting it, because that wasn’t supposed to be the point at all.  _ At all. _ He was just about to push away and apologize for his dear life when she wrapped two arms around him and gave him one of the best hugs that he had ever gotten, just tight enough to show affection, just soft enough to be enjoyable. In direct contrast to Dirk’s hug, this one didn’t strangle him on a pair of tits, although they really were very soft, and he immediately hated himself for thinking that, but it was true, and kind of mindblowing, as well. He had never hugged a girl before, much less one tall enough to tower over him like this, and the fact that she genuinely gave the best hugs ever just made this whole experience better than ever expected. He was just trying to piss Dave off by being nice to his family, yet here he was, getting something leagues better than that instead. One tight squeeze, and Roxy let him go, grinning bright from ear to ear. If she wasn’t so intimidating, he would probably have done this a lot sooner, and enjoyed her company a lot more. The fact that he thought everybody in here was intimidating was entirely due to the wrong idea of them that he still carried in his head somehow, despite knowing them all a little better by now. They weren’t scary, just protective of each other, and actually really nice people. Except for Dave, who could rot in Hell for all he cared. 

On his right, a movement, and, as his conjurings usually went, when he turned to look at it, Dave stood by his side, one hand up to touch his hair, fingers carding through it, fingertips on his scalp. It was actually really nice, but he’d never admit it; Ray-Bans watched him as Dave brushed his hair back and had him leaning back with the touch, face up at him, eyes half-lidded and skin burning. 

“Dance with me?” Low and smooth and bewitching, but before he could answer, Roxy was pulling on his arm and tugging him away from her cousin, telling him that she already had dibs on this dance. Fine; Dave called the next one, then, to which she informed him that that wasn’t up for grabs, either, putting a scowl on his face just under the blonde of his bangs. He was about to argue that when Dirk stepped into the picture and interrupted the fight to tell Karkat that they actually needed to talk. Right now, that sounded just perfect, so he untangled himself from both Roxy and Dave and took Dirk’s arm to leave the room, no looking back, because he already knew the expression on Dave’s face from that. 

“Bro, Dave’s fucked up.” Dirk stated cooly as they crossed the hallway for the back door together, his hand holding onto Dirk’s splint. “He’s taking offense by everything you do, like our friendship is a personal affront to him or something. I’ve never seen him like this with someone from outside of the family.” 

“Yeah, he has this idea in his head that I’m, like, his little minion, which, sure, isn’t super far from the truth, I get that, but, also, he’s not a god, and I’m not a believer. That’s not how it works. He said I belong to him, or with him, or whatever; same difference, and I guess it also means that I can’t be friends with anybody else, by the looks of it. I thought  _ you _ were his favorite boy.” 

“While I was definitely under the same treatment that he’s giving you right now, I was never his favorite boy. There’s a distinct difference between you and me and the circumstances which surround us. He’s only even friends with you because I was the one who invited you into the group, you know. If one of us makes a friend, the rest of the family does the same. He’s been the captain of this operation for years; it’s always been this way.” 

“Why is he doing that to me if I’m not even one of you?” 

“Because it seems you’ve become one of us. Once I brought you in and he adopted you, he pulled you to his side so effectively that, now, he probably sees you as  _ his _ friend first, even if that’s not exactly true. Plus, you know, the whole fucking happened, which really doesn’t help your case here. It’s more like he invited you to come stand next to him for a sec, and you immediately went through all of the hoops to make it and then pretty much set up camp next to him, like his loyal fucking dog. It’s adorable, but it attaches you to him in a way that you’ll find is very difficult to get yourself out of.” 

“Why is he giving a fuck  _ now? _ He’s never cared like this before. I mean, yeah, we’d hang out and spend time together, but he wouldn’t be breathing down my neck the whole fucking time. What the fuck changed?” 

“Well, you’ve never really taken someone else’s side before, have you? Whenever he was around, you’d be right there with him, not with me, or Roxy, or anybody else.” Spoken as Dirk pulled the back door open and went through it, having him follow close behind. “This is probably him freaking out about it and doing the most to stay relevant. You have no idea how much he cares.” 

“Actually, I do. He called me last night just to say that. It was kind of surreal, because he pretty much said everything that I never thought I’d hear in my entire life,  _ especially _ not from him, but then he ended it by saying that it’s not requited. Like, it doesn’t matter how he feels about me, he just can’t be with me. I...” A shrug, loose and resigned. “I don’t get it.” 

“Hold up. He  _ confessed _ to you and then immediately followed that up by saying that you can’t be together?” 

“Pretty much. He didn’t explain why, he just said that he doesn’t belong in my life, whatever the fuck that means.” 

“Shit.” Small and thoughtful as pointy shades stared at him through the twirling of the sky and the swirling of the earth. “Bro, he’s straight up denying his very gay side from coming out and being with you. You see that, right? If you were a girl, he’d be all over you in a second, but you’re not, which makes this a lot more difficult for him.” 

“Jake did the same thing to you, didn’t he?” 

“In a way, but I also let him.” 

“Rose thinks he’s pulling a Jake on me.” 

“Yeah, he kind of is, but, differently from me, you’re not letting him do it. Obviously, I can’t tell you what the results of this will be, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be better than what I got.” 

“I hope so.” Muttered into the space between them, a slight scowl pushing his eyebrows together. “What did you have to tell me?” 

“Me? Nothing.” 

“Earlier today, when I told you I needed to talk to you, you said you had something to tell me, too. What is it?” 

“It’s nothing. My thing is stupid compared to yours and I can deal with it myself. It’s fine; it’s not even a real problem.” 

“Dirk, just fucking tell me what it is.” 

Hesitation from Dirk, staring at him for a second, feet shifting his weight around. Was he nervous? It must’ve been a much bigger deal than he had advertised it to be if it affected him this bad. 

“Jake’s being a little too perfect and I don’t know if I can trust him. It kind of feels like an act.” 

Oh, goddammit. 

“Oh my god, dude, are you fucking serious? You’re worried because he’s being  _ too perfect? _ Bro, listen to yourself. You sound like a fucking crackhead right now.” 

“I know! I told you this is not a real problem; it’s just a mild concern, because we can’t even go ten minutes without arguing about something stupid, but lunch was just really nice. I have nothing to say about it.” 

“Then take this honeymoon period and fucking enjoy it for as long as it’ll last, man. Stop putting up barriers in this fucking relationship, Dirk. It’s like you  _ want _ it to fail, like you want a reason to kick his ass out of your life again. Why? I thought you wanted him back.” 

Pointy shades moved a degree to the side, possibly as Dirk took that into hard consideration. With alcohol burning through his veins and heating up his chest, he barely felt the chill of the breeze that swept past them and ruffled the perfectly styled locks of Dirk’s hair, like a Hollywood actor on set, gazing off in thought. Did Jake see that, too? How much more Dirk resembled a beautiful statue than a living person? Did he like that about him? 

“I guess I’m leaning too much onto our past experiences together to rightfully read the direction of this new relationship, and when your only frame of reference is of a failure, you can’t accurately identify a success as anything other than an anomaly in the system.” Okay, scratch that; Dirk was a beautiful robot, not a statue. Alright, maybe  _ sometimes _ a statue, but mostly a robot. Maybe Jake liked that about him, too. “I didn’t realize that by comparing the two so strongly and trying to mold them as the same I was essentially sabotaging it in its entirety. By classifying their differences as errors I instantly ruled out the possibility that those differences might actually be what will pave us to success.” 

“I think you should stop second-guessing your man and just let him treat you right, bro. You deserve that much.” 

Pointy shades fixed themselves on him and he briefly wondered if Jake liked watching his own reflection when staring at the love of his life. 

“You make a good point.” 

“Irrefutable, even.” 

“I suppose.” 

“C’mon, I need a fucking shot.” 

Back inside, the air was warm and close and almost even suffocating, but probably because his chest burned and his blood felt to be at a hundred degrees and they were walking in from a chilly breeze that just felt completely natural, which, somehow, made that shot sound this much more appealing right now. Salt on his hand, a quarter of a lemon waiting for him on the table. The moment he stepped into the living room, however, aviator shades immediately found him and lit a furnace in his heart that consumed him whole, like a stick in the fireplace, a fit of red-hot rage. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to grab his throat and feel his skin under his palms and breathe the Dior that hung around him and scream in his face. To shake him and bash his head against the wall and make him bleed and wait, no, actually, no. Scratch that completely. The fire in his chest really did burn, but more like the aftermath of arson; the leftover flames in the hearth, dying as the night progressed. He didn’t actually want to hurt Dave at all. He didn’t even want anything that was happening right now, and, walking up to Dave, his heart ached, like the dull wound from two weeks ago that kept being prodded and pulled apart to make it bleed. In a brief, brief thought, he wished that Dave would just let him go. 

“Are you done sucking my brother off?” Spoken in lieu of a greeting and making him roll his eyes because, apparently, this fucking game still wasn’t over. 

“What’s wrong with a little homosexuality between friends?” Rhetorical question with a careless shrug attached to it, because the answer was that no, there was nothing wrong with that, and he didn’t need a faux hetero to tell him otherwise. In fact, that was probably the only way to really live. “I mean, it’s not everyone that gets to see Dirk Strider’s cum face. I gotta take pride in what I can.” 

A scoff from Dave, turning his face a bit to the side, but his jaw was set, and his free hand closed into a fist, and he  _ hated _ that. He could see it on how tense Dave’s shoulders were and how laboriously he seemed to be holding himself back, maybe from decking Karkat straight in the face, maybe from gutting him right open. If he did, would it have been cathartic for him? Would it have settled things between them? In a split-second decision, he continued talking; continued pushing Dave to the edge just to see him fight back. 

“He came in about three minutes. Is there something on my face? Cleanup is not really my forte, but, apparently, blowjobs are.” 

“With those razor-sharp teeth, Karkat? There’s no fucking way.” 

“Well, you wouldn’t know, would you?” 

Ray-Bans stared at him, but all he did was watch the reflection of his own smug face on them, and then proceed to actually check himself out, pretending to use the shades as a mirror to make sure that his face was clean. Hopefully, it’d drive Dave up the fucking wall. 

“You know, I think you’re full of shit.” Ah, by the tone of his voice, it had worked. “You’re trying to piss me off, aren’t you? You want to see me mad.” Low and vicious and the way it almost rasped into anger kind of had his heart skipping, blood running fast. Fuck, why was this hot? Dave’s eyes on him all evening, following him around the room, deeply and personally affected by the fact that his family was getting far more of Karkat’s affection than he was; the sort of attention that he had been dying to get from Dave all week through; a drop of it, a single second of his goddamn time. Was this the only way to get it? To break from Dave’s side and remind him that he wouldn’t always be there? That just because Dave believed that he was intended to be in his life didn’t mean he would actually do it; a two-way street. 

“I’m just trying to make you see me.” The candor with which he said that barely even struck him as incongruous in the heat of their conversation. 

The doorbell rang, catching everybody’s attention and making them all move to go get it, except for Dave, who stayed by the couch, leaning on the wall, staring back at him. He really didn’t have anything else to say, though, and turned away to see Roxy pull the front door open, concealing the visitor with her body while walking out and promptly shutting the door behind herself. A little weird, and something that pushed everyone over to the window above the couch to open it and eavesdrop on the conversation that was going on outside. Karkat joined them just because he didn’t want to be around Dave anymore, and squeezed himself between Dirk and Rose to catch a glimpse of Roxy talking to Jake out on the porch. God, he had completely forgotten about Jake; what was he doing here? He couldn’t remember what Dirk had said, only that Jake was a good person now who was finally treating Dirk right. Good for him. Outside, Roxy pushed on Jake’s chest and insulted him for no real reason while letting him know, very aggressively, that if he ever tried to pull some bullshit on her cousin again, her and the rest of the family would kick his ass back to England. Both Rose and Egbert loudly agreed from the window, making the two outside turn to glance at it, and Dirk immediately duck from Jake’s line of sight. Pointing at the window, Roxy glared back at Jake, menacing in a very beautiful, very rightful way that, Karkat realized, only her would’ve been able to pull off. 

After making her point, Roxy walked off into the lawn, which prompted the others to leave the window and grab their coats to join her outside. Hoping off of the couch, he passed Dave a brief glance, still standing next to him, definitely close enough to the window to have heard everything that had just transpired without actually needing to join in. Why was Dave so distant? He stood so close, but seemed so far away. 

Walking past Dave without a single word, he followed the others outside to see a huge fucking truck parked by the curb, like the sort that Texans seemed to love and that had made a huge impact on him upon first moving here, because these things were everywhere and it was kind of bizarre. People just straight up drove trucks around, with four fucking doors and a huge bed like it was a normal thing to do. It was just crazy to think about, even more so because it belonged to Jake, who he didn’t even know had a vehicle, much less this cultural or expensive. Had Jake fully adopted the Texan lifestyle, or was this a desperate attempt to fit in with the rich rednecks that ruled the state? He turned to Jake to ask him about that, but Dirk had beat him to it, already walking Jake across the lawn, so he decided to bring that up later and just followed them instead, sort of accidentally eavesdropping on their conversation on the way. Nothing really important was being said; just Dirk apologizing for his cousin’s behavior just now and Jake brushing it off, saying that he understood where she had come from. She cared about him; they  _ all _ cared about him, and Jake agreed with her, which was why he took no offense to it. Honestly, it was kind of adorable how Jake reassured Dirk that everything was fine in what was probably the most genuine way that Karkat had ever seen without making it sound too good to be true. Maybe Dirk would be fine, after all. 

Even though the truck was huge and could probably fit everyone comfortably inside, they all just climbed onto the bed instead, putting music on a phone and passing a bottle of  _ something _ around, which he hadn’t even seen them bring from the house. The tires of this thing were about half his size and had to be climbed on if he actually planned on joining the others, which he did, until Dave showed up to also do that and effectively changed his mind about it. Dave made easy work of climbing the tire with his long legs and had Egbert pull him up by the arm for a swift ascent, clasped hand-to-elbow in true bro fashion, like something he could easily imagine Jake and Dirk doing. He wasn’t sure why, but that was the vibe that he got from it, even if Jake and Dirk actually took the front of the truck, because Jake was driving, and Dirk would obviously ride shotgun. Up on the bed, aviator shades glanced down at him, Dave’s arm extended to offer him a lift, but he turned away and got in the back instead, riding alone in the middle seat. The cabin was quiet even when Jake turned the engine on, making the thunder-clashing noise that hit the streets sound like a purr. Slouching into himself and pretty much just melting on the leather upholstery, he watched Jake pull onto the street and drive off. 

The first thing that Dirk did as Jake’s co-pilot was pair his phone to the truck’s bluetooth and put some music on, since they certainly couldn’t hear what the others were playing outside; electronic beats that flowed from the speakers and reverberated in Karkat’s chest as a sort of soundtrack for the trip, which he had no idea how long would actually take. They were only about fifteen minutes from downtown, though, so, if that was where Sub Rosa was, alongside every other club in this place, it wouldn’t take very long. Jake commented on the music saying that he liked it; making some light conversation with Dirk that was actually very soothing to listen to just because of how pleasant the low of their voices felt on the ears; two different types of baritone conversing in their own distinct accents like a perfect choir, or a rehearsed dance. Despite Jake’s voice being lower, his intonations flew higher and he was overall far more energetic than Dirk, whose voice was almost a perfect constant, like the beating of a drum in the chest, or the marching of an army. The way they talked reminded him of two bros in high school discussing which cheerleader to take to prom while staring into each other’s eyes, or whispering dirty jokes into the other’s ear just to lean in and breathe the sweat from his skin and brush a nose against his jaw. Dirk commented on the truck, asking Jake whose brilliant idea it was to buy it, to which Jake responded it was his own, actually; that ever since he had seen Dirk’s father ride that small Ford two-seater he had sort of always wanted one of his own. Dirk let him know that, if owning a truck was really the will of the heart, then Jake definitely belonged in Texas. Jake’s laughter sounded like low thunder, roaring deep into the night, distant enough to kiss the ear and soothe the heart. It was really nice to listen to. 

At one point, Dirk turned around to glance at him, pointy shades reflecting the flashing street lights as they passed by. 

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you know.” 

“I want to go.” He confessed, voice low, kind of soulless. “I want to have fun.” 

“You don’t sound like you’re having much fun.” Jake from behind the wheel, passing him a brief glance through the rearview mirror, green eyes dark in the dimly lit cabin, like the heart of a forest, or the bottom of a lake. He wondered if they pulled Dirk in, got him lost, drowned him. 

“Sorry.” Small, practically swallowed rather than said. “I just don’t want to see him anymore.” 

“He’ll come around.” Dirk promised, his voice like rocks tumbling down a cliff, rumbling in the chest. “We’re giving him the end of this week, remember?” 

“I know, I just don’t think it’ll change anything. I think he knows he deserves better than me.” 

“Man, if he deserves better than you, then he might as well join the monastery. You’re literally the nicest person I know, dude. If anything,  _ you _ deserve better than him.” 

“I thought you idolized your big brother, Dirk.” 

“Yeah, I thought so, too.” 

Sub Rosa was literally so fucking packed that the line to get in trickled all the way down the block, and then around the corner. It was insane; Jake’s status update must’ve really changed the game here because Karkat had never seen a line this long before, and Sub Rosa wasn’t even the most famous club around. Acid Mushroom was a lot more popular than this place, but the line last time hadn’t even been a third of the size of this one. Jake left the truck at a valet nearby and tipped the guy before leaving, which was a little weird, because didn’t people usually tip afterwards? Not that he had ever used a valet service before, or would really know, but whatever; they all climbed out of the truck and followed Jake out of the parking lot, one block down. That meant crossing the street and then walking past the entire line along the next block while people screamed, took photos and recorded their arrival. It was kind of crazy to see just how hysterical the people in line went from seeing them, making Karkat feel like a real celebrity while walking past all of them as if he were more important somehow, just because he was on the right side of the rope. Dirk and Jake walked ahead of the group, with Jake placing an arm across Dirk’s shoulders as their fans screamed, causing them to scream louder. Their relationship had honestly exploded overnight and Jake had apparently turned into a proper celebrity now, rising to stardom in less than a week. Did a single kiss really do all of this? Why were people so obsessed with these two guys? He knew why they went crazy over Dirk, but Jake was relatively new on campus. Was his sudden popularity due to his relationship with Dirk, because he was  _ Dirk’s _ boyfriend, or had he been building some sort of reputation for himself that Karkat didn’t know about this whole time? Simpler than that, were they both just famous because they were two really handsome men, like, Hollywood-levels of hot? Because two hot dudes being together was just intrinsically sexy? He didn’t know, but Jake sure didn’t seem taken aback by the people’s attention. Didn’t he use to be super popular in high school? Maybe he was just used to the spotlight by now. 

For some reason, the Strilondes and Egbert always got to skip the line at these places and go straight up to the bouncer, who checked their IDs and gave Dirk a pink bracelet before letting them go inside. He caught the way that Jake stared at the bracelet as they entered the club; a look on Jake's face that put two and two together but still missed the point, somehow. In the entrance hallway, the blacklight turned their skin purple and the music was a muffled beat that shook their rib cages and had their blood flowing, feet moving, shoulders swaying. 

"Golly, you're not even twenty-one yet." Jake said over the music, more as a spoken realization than a conversation starter. "You just turned twenty a couple of months ago." 

"Yeah, welcome back."

"How old are you?" He asked, because he was probably the only one who didn't know that yet. 

"Twenty-three." 

"But…" Wait. His brain hurt and the neon lights above swirled and the music grew louder the closer they got to the end of the hallway, but something didn't add up. "Did you finish high school at nineteen?" 

"Yes. I missed a year when I moved from Britain." 

Oh my god, why couldn't they all just be the same fucking age? 

"Is Dave twenty-two?" Shouted into Jake's personal space as they walked through the door into the dancefloor ahead of everybody else. 

"Yes, he is." 

One year older than him. It felt like part of him already knew that but was still re-learning it somehow. He had been so drunk so frequently these last few weeks that everything felt both extremely new and abysmally repetitive. 

“Get me a shot.” Dirk shouted from Jake’s right side, loud enough for him and a couple of others to hear. Even in the dark he could see Roxy’s face light up from that, coming up to join them. 

“Get us all shots.” He added, getting an enthusiastic  _ hell yeah! _ from Roxy followed by a very satisfying high five that landed square on his palm. 

Obediently, Jake pushed his way through the crowd with all of them in tow, Dirk by the hand, up to the bar for seven tequila shots and a bottle of water, please. The bartender lined them up while the crowd parted to watch; to see them take their respective places at the counter, lick some salt, down the shot and bite the lemon in perfect synchrony. Karkat knew that there was at least one person in here that had recorded this and would later post it online for him to watch and gauge his own performance, which, by the hard grimace on his face, must not have been the best one. Slamming her empty glass down, Roxy shouted and immediately hyped up the crowd, making them all shout, too, and proceed to take their places either at the bar or back on the dancefloor. With a bounce to her step, Roxy took Egbert’s arm in one hand and Karkat’s wrist in the other, pulling them both to the dancefloor with her. 

Lights flashed, bodies moved, music drummed in his chest and maybe because he was too drunk to care, or maybe because he had absolutely nothing else to lose at rock bottom, he let himself go wild, dancing to the beat, raising his arms and jumping in place and screaming pop song lyrics at the top of his lungs. Roxy and Egbert were next to him for a while, but he danced with his eyes closed, and felt the beat reverberate through his soul, and the lyrics of white artists pour out of his skin, and his body become one with the dancing mass that jumped and swayed and cried to trap remixes of songs that constantly played on the radio, and, soon, he didn’t recognize any of the faces that surrounded him anymore, engulfing him in a colony of living beings that moved, and breathed, and thought as one. He danced with strangers, and shouted the fragments of the lyrics that he knew, and shook his head so hard that the sweat on his face grew cold from it. Above him, neon lights twirled and danced to the music, making something click in his head and a hand reach into his pocket to pull out the glow stick from it, still glowing, still bright, to slip around his wrist and track the movement of his arm. Jumping and swaying to the music, he watched the pink neon glow on his arm make patterns in the world, mesmerizing to the eye, dancing by itself. If he shook his arm just to watch the neon paint his immediate surroundings, he barely even noticed it. 

It occurred to him at some point, the way rising temperatures in the water boiled the frog without it even noticing its approaching demise, that Dave never came out to find him and herd him back to the group the way he usually did; the way he had always done it, because Karkat’s dancing was wild, and frantic, and frequently pushed him away from the others. He had no idea, at this point, how long they had been here for, didn’t think to check his phone for the time, and, instead, glanced up to see if he could recognize any of the moving heads in his vicinity, because maybe Dave had forgotten to bring him back, and maybe Dave didn’t  _ want _ to bring him back, and he had to do it on his own this time. The club was packed, neon flashed over the crowd in blue and pink, and the strobe lights above made it all look to be in stop motion, like footage from a film reel at half its speed. The people immediately surrounding him were unrecognizable, and the heads around them didn’t particularly stand out, either, but he started pushing his way through the crowd regardless, searching for a familiar face, or a hairstyle that he recognized. Despite the search, he still jumped to the beat and bobbed his head to the music, still part of the dancing crowd; a transient dot in a wavering sea. 

In the distance, spiked up hair, platinum blonde but colored blue and pink as the lights touched it, poking out from the sea of dancing heads, near an even taller one that was as dark as the night could get, and his heart bounced, and punched him in the throat, and he couldn’t wait to see Dirk again. Slipping through the slim gap between people and pushing them aside to make space for himself, growing closer and closer to Dirk and Jake, the crowd squeezed him between shoulders and backs, and squashed him between arms and sides until, suddenly, aviator shades poked through the moving bodies and stopped him dead on track, every nerve ending struck by a lightning bolt, blood curdled into ice. His breathing hitched, because Dave was right the fuck there, staring back at him, but there were horns on his head, and his hair was black, and he grinned big and wide with razor-sharp teeth that could cut through flesh as easily as if it were butter, bringing him back to the Styx, Pyrope’s terrifying red eyes hidden behind Ray-Ban shades. A shove on his right, and he turned to see Vriska right there, tall and slim with a smirk on her face that made his heart race and his feet immediately want to run away. A movement on the left, and bright red eyes met with his own, big and wide, as if seeing a ghost. Under the blacklight, Dave’s skin was tinted purple and his hair shone pink and violet, ruffled and messy from his dancing, sticking a little bit to his forehead, making Karkat’s heart skip a beat, a knot around his throat, pierced through by an arrow; his attraction for Dave coming back to run him over. Dave’s lips parted as if about to tell him something that he didn’t want to hear, because if Dave was dancing with Vriska and Pyrope, then there really wasn’t anything that Karkat wanted to hear about it right now, and, instead of sticking around for it, he just shouldered past Dave and continued pushing through the crowd, even if Dave tried to take his arm and pull him back, making him jerk himself free and pretty much book it toward Dirk and Jake not too far ahead. 

His heart choked him with how quickly it beat, lodged far up his throat, knees weak, hands shaking, but he made it to the dancing couple and immediately squeezed himself in between them, so they sandwiched him in big chests and firm stomachs and essentially hid him away from the world, arms wrapped tightly around Dirk’s midsection, holding onto him for dear life. His eyes were shut closed, face buried onto Dirk’s pecs, desperately breathing in the soothing scent of cedar wood that always clung to him in an attempt at calming himself down and keeping himself sane. Hands found his head and shoulders and sides and both Dirk and Jake were speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear them over the music, or over the screaming inside his own head, and focused instead on how softly they carded through his hair and touched his upper arm, consoling him, worried about him. 

Jake took a step back to give him some breathing room, but he immediately snatched Jake’s arm and pulled him back close, making two big arms reach for Dirk in an attempt to hug him, and Dirk reach back. It was nice, actually, to be squeezed in a tight embrace that cradled his head in firm pecs and flooded him with the peace and tranquility that came with the knowledge that he was safe in here, and that Dave, or literally anyone, would never be able to get to him now. He knew that they would shield him from the world, and, opening his eyes, saw Dave watching him from the crowd, red eyes locked onto him, an unreadable expression on Dave’s face. It was only then that he noticed the space that the people in the club had put between themselves and the couple, giving them a sort of clearing to dance in, as if they were a circus attraction, or newly weds during their first dance. It sure put into perspective just how he shouldn’t be here, sandwiched between these two extremely handsome men, living the dream of at least half the population that watched them, but only being able to see Dave among the crowd. Dirk and Jake caged him safely away from everybody else, and, resting his head on Dirk’s chest, he moved along with the two of them, dancing like a small child between their parents. 

Through the booming of the music and the deafening bass drop, Jake said something over his head that he would absolutely never have understood, staring straight ahead at Dirk who answered him too low to hear, chest vibrating with his words, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He wasn’t too worried about figuring out what they were saying, because he wasn’t even being addressed, anyway, and, instead, just watched the way that Jake looked at Dirk while chatting with him, green eyes bright, the ghost of a smile on his lips the entire time. Cedar wood and vermouth were a perfect combination, and, seeing the glint in Jake’s eye and the way his lips curled when he talked and how lovingly he looked at Dirk, he understood why Jake had come back. 

“You guys should kiss.” He shouted, making the two glance down at him, and then back at each other; Jake grinning, Dirk with both eyebrows bouncing on his forehead. Leaning forward, Jake easily closed the gap between them, kissing Dirk right over his head, with a half-smile to press against his lips that made Karkat’s heart jump, eyes widening. He didn’t know why, but watching that had his blood running warmer and his pulse racing in his ears, face hot, cheeks burning. A hand closed around the back of Dirk’s neck and brought him closer to Jake, lips parting and pressing together, the crowd around them screaming louder than the music, Karkat’s heart trying to break through his ribs. Round teeth nipped on Dirk’s skin and bit his lip and a tongue flashed to slip past his teeth and Karkat stopped looking, squeezing his way out from between them, lungs breathing in shallow, quick drafts. Diving back into the cheering crowd, he slipped through it and pushed his way to the back of the club, where a black wall greeted him with an equally-colored door right in the middle of it that melted with its surroundings and blended in the darkness. He only even saw it because a flash of blue light raced over it just as he approached the wall and made the handle shine. Pulling the door open, he sneaked outside. 

What the fuck was that? The way Jake looked at Dirk, so loving, so interested, full of care and attention and how he had kissed him without a second thought; latching a hand to his neck and pulling him close and meeting with his face for the entire world to see. How their mouths moved, how naturally they could read each other; the way Dirk tilted his head the tiniest bit to the side, Jake’s smile in the kiss, his fucking tongue on the roof of Dirk’s mouth. His heart raced, face burning, he could feel it; skin pumping, sweat dripping from his temples, and a breeze swept past, making him shiver, chilling him instantly. In the empty alleyway behind the club, he hugged himself, shivering, listening to the muffled music that leaked through the walls and bled from under the door; the soundtrack to Dirk and Jake’s makeout,  _ oh, baby, he’s so cruel, _ their chests squeezing him, Dirk’s tongue to meet up with Jake’s,  _ but I’m still in love with Judas, baby. _ Had they been dancing together all night? Would Jake pull Dirk by the arm and shove him into a bathroom stall later? He remembered Dirk telling him something about fucking in the janitor’s closet a long time ago. Did he like it? Did he like when Jake pushed him against the wall and fucked him standing? 

Two hands came up to his face and rubbed it, heart beating out of his chest, because he was absolutely fucking depraved and shouldn’t be thinking about his friends like that. His stomach was in flames and he couldn’t really feel his face, but if he had stood on tip-toes and reached up and kissed the two of them right as their lips met, what would they have done? Would they have pushed him off; would Jake have kissed him back? He shuddered, face burning, walking over to a wall to lean on it and hopefully bash his head in, as well, because this was fucked up and disgusting but the way that Jake looked at Dirk; how much he cared, how deeply he loved him; would he ever get that, too? Not from Jake or Dirk, but from someone at  _ any _ point in his life? Not from Dave, either, because Dave could’ve never looked at him like that; dancing with Pyrope and her kismesis, not giving a singular shit about him all night, not even caring to know where he was for most of it. Maybe if he could experience a fraction of what Jake and Dirk had; if he could be in the middle of them somehow and be hugged and loved and cared for. If Dave could care for him the way they cared for each other. Obviously, he wasn’t in love with Dirk or Jake; he was in love with what they had together, with their love for each other, and maybe that was what everybody that surrounded them also felt; experiencing love vicariously by watching Jake smile at Dirk and then kiss him with his heart on his sleeve. 

A creaking sound and loud music blasted from behind him, making him turn around to look at the back door and see Dave walk out from it, one hand on the metal handle, the other hidden in the pocket of his varsity jacket. His aviator shades were nowhere to be found, but, if Karkat had to guess, they were probably still on Pyrope’s face like a testament to their friendship and how well repaired things between them were. Dave let the door close behind him and walked over, Nike shoes shuffling on asphalt, blonde hair blowing lightly with the breeze, a model in front of a fan. His heart skipped a beat as Dave approached, eyes down at his legs, watching the way his skinny jeans hugged his thighs when he walked. If Dave cared about him the way Jake cared about Dirk, would they be fucking in the bathroom stall right now? 

“What’s going on, Karkat?” Voice low and soft as Dave stopped right in front of him, and the pattern on his shirt was red; a black background with tiny, tiny red flowers and long stems that met and intertwined and kind of looked like a constellation. He didn’t answer, so Dave continued. “What’s all of this running around for? Why are you hiding behind bro and pitching everyone against me? You want to be seen and I  _ see _ you; don’t you feel that? You’re my best friend.” 

His eyebrows furrowed into a deep scowl, eyes trained down on Dave’s shirt and jacket, the metal buttons that shone yellow in the dark, near a dim street light, refusing to look up into his face. 

“What you feel for me isn’t supposed to be so strong, you know. It’s not supposed to consume you like a house fire; it’s supposed to warm you up like a fireplace. What you feel for me isn’t friendship.” Here, he glanced up, staring into red eyes that watched him from under a slight scowl, blown wide down at him. “But you’re still acting like it is. Why? Everything was fine before you called me last night. Why did you have to do that? Why couldn’t you just swallow it down and keep it in like the rest of us? I shouldn’t be carrying this around on top of everything else. It’s not fair.” 

“I’m sorry; I thought it would explain this last week. I thought--” 

“You didn’t think shit, Dave. You’re selfish. You wanted me to know how much you care and how important I am to you so I’ll put you on a pedestal and worship you and turn a blind eye to the fact that I can’t have you. I’m yours, but you’re not mine; isn’t that what you think? Isn’t that what you  _ want? _ You said you hate being idolized, but you actually love it, Dave, because that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time, and that’s what made me your best friend. You’re not who you think you are.” 

“You’re not mine, Karkat; I’ve never had you like that. I’m not so insane that I can’t even see that. What we did; you know it had no strings attached.” 

“No, it didn’t; nothing that we’ve done had any strings attached, but I acted like it did, and you didn’t mind that. You liked that you could come home to me and hold me in your arms and spoon me for the night but still be free to go to a club and make out with whoever you wanted and not have to tell anyone about it; not have to owe anyone anything. Our friendship only turned into a problem when you didn’t have that anymore; when you had to share me with your brother and cousins and friends. It bothers you that Dirk’s my friend as much as you are, doesn’t it? That he knows about me more than you ever have. That I hug him and Roxy how we used to hug each other.” 

“I don’t mind that you’re friends with my family, Karkat, but the fact that we’re not how we used to be hurts. We don’t talk anymore and I barely see you, but they have what I used to have and it’s the reminder of what I lost that kills me. I miss how we used to be.” 

“Wearing matching outfits to a party and hugging in the kitchen?” 

“Sharing secrets and trusting each other and teaming up against the world.” 

“I didn’t change, Dave; I’m still here. You’re the one who pushed me away.” 

Red eyes dropped to the space between them, and Dave had nothing to say to that. In the bottom of his chest, his heart quivered, laying flat in its own blood, choking slowly. 

“I love you.” He muttered, heart squeezing, making Dave find his face and hold the stare with wide eyes that he couldn’t read, but that watched him intently. “You’ll always be my best friend.” With that, he made to leave, but Dave held out a hand right in front of him, stopping him from going for the door. 

“Wait, please, just…” Small and quiet in the small space between them as Dave averted his eyes and closed them, as if trying to order his thoughts or make sense of things. It was fine that he needed a moment, but it was getting pretty cold out here, and he could only hug himself for so long, shivering hard, jaw threatening to rattle. At least it was warm inside with the hundreds of bodies that danced and sweated, but as soon as he opened his mouth to say that; to propose that they took this back inside, or maybe even just let Dave put his thoughts together in silence, Dave was already slipping his jacket off. He draped it over Karkat’s shoulders and held it closed with two hands on the collar, like a heavy cape around his body that filled his lungs with roses and the air with apples, thick and warm against the wind, the warmth of Dave’s body still lingering inside. Holding him by the collar, Dave took a step closer, into his personal space, making him glance up to look into his eyes. His heart leapt up to his throat; was Dave going to do it? Would he make up for every time that he had lingered, and hesitated, and looked back, but not kissed him? 

“You’re my best friend, too. Despite everything.” Whispered in the three inches between them, red eyes bright and wide, locked on his own, making his heart jump and skip and his blood grow drunk on roses. 

“Prove it. Pr--” Spoken as Dave pulled him by the collar and promptly met with his face in a hard-hitting kiss that shut his eyes and filled his lungs and made his cheeks burn. God, how he had missed this; how  _ badly _ he had missed this; Dave’s mouth on his own, noses pushed together, breath hot on his face, and his heart soared, and punched his throat, and choked him on Dave’s face, being held close by the varsity that enveloped him, roses in his lungs. Two hands found Dave’s neck and held him, cradled his jaw, pulled him even closer when a tongue found his bottom lip and made his pulse race, skin set alight. His lips parted and teeth tugged on them, bit them, sent shivers down his spine; Dave’s tongue on his palate, meeting with his own, deep down his throat and his heart hammered him in the chest, knees wanting to give. 

Dave’s hands found his face and grabbed his jaw and held him in it as his knees slowly buckled and an arm laid across Dave’s shoulders, using him for support. A noise came up his throat, but he swallowed it down with Dave’s tongue and muffled himself on his mouth and let Dave push him back against the wall, sandwiching him with his own body, chest to chest and stomachs touching, and if he lined his hips up the right way, and if he moved just one step closer he could push against Dave’s crotch and feel him on the low of his stomach, hard through the denim of his jeans. His heart raced, a whimper died on Dave’s tongue and his skin burned for more; for Dave to flip him around and pull his pants down and fuck him hard against the wall. A hand grabbed his hips and held them down as Dave pushed against them; thrusting in between his legs, rubbing up on his inner thighs. It sent a shiver down his spine, traveled down to the pit of his soul, and pushed him to move his hands from Dave’s neck to his belt buckle, grabbing it, slipping fingers down the waistband of his pants. A muffled noise and Dave thrusted up against him, pushing him on the wall, making his hands pull on the belt and start to undo it. That was when Dave broke the kiss and stepped away from him, pushing his hands away. 

“Not here, Karkat.” Breathy and hurried as Dave fixed his belt and pulled his shirt down over it, red eyes glancing off at the dark, empty street just out the alleyway.

Hugging the jacket closer and actually slipping his arms into the sleeves, he felt himself shiver, skin burning for more. 

“Why not? There’s no one around. Nobody’s going to see it.” 

“No, just--” 

“Just what? You clearly want it, Dave. You want to fuck me as much as I want you to do it.” 

“Shut up.” Small and quick between them, uttered under Dave’s breath as his eyebrows scowled and a hand brushed his hair back, blonde locks shining orange, giving him a holy glow. “Let’s just go home.” 

“And then what?” Harsh and curt while Dave made for the door, but stopped to pass him a glance, red eyes meeting with his own for a hard second. 

“And then you can do whatever you want.” 

Back in the club, the deafening music completely muffled the sound of the door slamming shut behind them and shook his chest in rhythm with the beat as he followed Dave through the crowd, staying close behind, shoulders carrying the weight of Dave’s varsity. Finding both Dirk and Jake was easy; possibly easier than finding anybody else here in this club tonight, and, considering how things usually went with these guys, the others weren’t so far off, either; hanging around just a handful of people away. Dave gathered them all and led them outside, past the screaming fans and the unsuspecting strangers all the way out to the street, where a cold breeze swept, and the line was gone. If all of those people had managed to get in while they were dancing, then maybe they had spent a lot more time at the club than he had realized. Pulling out his phone, the brightness of the screen blinded him momentarily and the dancing numbers on it told him that it was almost four in the morning. It was a muted sort of shock that traveled through him where he consciously retained that information but couldn’t actually feel it in his chest. Staying close to the others, he followed them down the street back to the parking lot where Jake had left his truck. 

Nobody seemed to want to ride on the bed this time, crowding the backseat instead, so he made a point to get the window and sit next to literally anyone except for Dave. The fact that he succeeded told him that Dave wasn’t too worried about riding home next to him this time, or he would’ve made everyone get up and out of the truck just so he could rearrange their seats. In his little corner, squeezed between Roxy and the door, he pulled the varsity close to his face and covered his nose with it, breathing in deep, soothing his heart and filling his lungs with Dave’s cologne, hiding under the collar, thinking of how Dave had taken it off and wrapped it around him. That had been nice, that Dave cared, or claimed that he did, although it would’ve been better if Dave had fucked him in it. Maybe he still would, and the thought alone was enough to burn his cheeks. 

Back at Dave’s place, everybody thanked Jake for the ride and left the truck one by one, himself included, as the last one to hop off and close the door. In the front, Dirk had the door open and a foot on the ground, hesitating with a hand on the door handle and his face turned toward the cabin, possibly talking to Jake. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but, out on the lawn, the others were already pretty much at the porch, going back inside to leave them out here; Karkat six feet into the front yard, Dirk lingering halfway into the truck. 

“Dude, are you coming or what?” He asked in a half-shout, half-indoor voice, because he wasn’t exactly far enough to go unheard, or patient enough to wait around forever, even though he knew that he didn’t have to, but Dirk was a friend. His question had Dirk turning to glance at him, then getting back onto the truck, just about to pull the passenger door closed. 

“I’m going home with Jake. Do you want a ride?” 

“Nah, I’m fucking your brother tonight. Have fun, though.” 

The ghost of a half-smirk on Dirk’s face, and he pulled the door closed. 

By the time he got inside, the living room was already deserted and the light in Dave’s room was on; he could see it from the small gap between the door and the frame. Had Dave left it open on purpose? Closing the front door, he moved a little bit to see if he could sneak a glance into Dave’s room without having to go up to it, but couldn’t really see much besides the floor and a portion of Dave’s bed with sheets crumpled up on it but nobody actually in it. Was Dave even in there? Maybe in the bathroom, even if he couldn’t really hear any water running or any other sounds coming from it. Letting himself into Dave’s room uninvited just seemed like a bad idea overall, so he decided against doing that, and, instead, laid down on the couch, his temporary home, getting comfy on the throw pillow that he always slept on, warm in Dave’s jacket. 

A sound, a soft creaking, and there was movement in the room, Dave’s feet under the door, coming up to pull it open and show up at the frame, red eyes that found him right away and glanced him down. It felt good; it made his heart skip and his skin burn, hands grabbing the front of the jacket, feet moving closer to his thighs. Laying flat on his back, he watched the way Dave looked at his legs, down his thighs, red eyes burning, so he spread them apart a little bit, making Dave’s jaw set and his eyes glance up to find his face next, the absurd smirk there, the smugness that poured out of him. Dave would lose tonight. Quietly, Dave left his bedroom and walked over, to the end of the couch where the seat was empty and his feet rested on the padding; two knees to straddle the couch and tower over him, right between his legs, the front of Dave’s thighs pushing onto the underside of his own. His heart raced, punching him in the chest, blood rushing along his body as Dave’s eyes burned and two hands found his legs, running up his thighs to scorch them, up to where they met with his hips and the waistband of his pants poked out from under the hem of his shirt. A tug on the strings of his sweatpants to untie them and he raised his hips to let Dave pull them off, tossing them aside. 

“Don’t touch me.” He whispered, getting a look from Dave, but hands that obediently slipped off of his body, anyway. Good. “Take your shirt off.” 

Complied in a swift motion that pulled Dave’s shirt overhead and threw it on the ground to meet with his discarded pants, skin shivering from the cold, Dave’s chest rising with each breath, stomach perfectly flat. He reached a hand to Dave and touched him, felt the goosebumps on his skin, traced his navel and spread a hand across the low of his stomach, palm flat to press on it, warm to the touch, velvety smooth. Dave watched him curiously, the way he felt him up, pushing on his skin and running his hand up his stomach, a lot softer than he thought it would be, smooth like silk. Did Dave lift? He hadn’t thought to ask the first time that they did this, and let the question fall to the back of his mind while joining a second hand to the first and moving on to undo Dave’s belt. This time, Dave let him, watching him in silence, hands resting on his knees as he pulled the belt off and threw it over the side of the couch. 

“You wanna boss me around?” Dave asked, voice low like a drumroll in the chest, a tug on the corner of his lips. 

“Maybe.” He whispered, pulling on the front of Dave’s jeans to unbutton them. “Are you cold?” 

“Nah.” Except there were goosebumps on his arms and his fingertips were a little chilly, hands moving up Karkat’s thighs, tentatively, defiantly, flirting with the hem of his boxers. He spread his legs and reached a hand around Dave’s waist, pulling him close, making him move an arm to rest on the couch and obediently lay on top of him; Dave’s nose brushing against his own, Dave’s body sinking him into the couch. A kiss on his jaw, two, down his neck, and he let his eyes roll closed, skin on fire as Dave pushed against him, teeth on his neck. His thighs tingled, bulge pressing on the fabric of his boxers as Dave rubbed up against it, a strangled noise in his throat, hands on Dave’s back, holding onto him. The scabs from Pyrope’s turn with Dave were still there, catching onto his fingers, making his hands flinch away and his heart skip a beat, cold blood washing across his chest. He breathed, holding Dave by the shoulders, feeling his soul burn at the pit of his body, skin shivering from the tongue on his neck and the lips that sucked on his flesh, thighs squeezing Dave’s waist, heart punching him in the rib cage. A hand found his stomach and slipped right under his shirt, flat on his skin, running up his body and making his back arch a little bit, goosebumps following it up and down, touching him to expose skin and burn him alive; Dave’s palm on his belly, searing a hole through it. 

“Take your pants off.” He breathed, small into Dave’s hair, prompting him to move up and trail kisses up his neck, to his ear, along his jaw, sending shivers down his back, ears flopping on Dave’s face. Forehead to forehead and his eyes were closed, hands on Dave’s shoulders, feeling the way his muscles moved under the skin, firm to the touch, goosebumps all across Dave’s back. It must’ve been real cold without the varsity, huh; still on Karkat’s body, sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. A hand to his hips, where the waistband of his boxers met skin, and he raised them up for Dave, having the boxers slip down his thighs and off his legs. A kiss to his face, lips hard against his own, and he breathed in deep, heart hammering him in the chest as hands grabbed his thighs and manhandled them a bit, pushing them apart for Dave to sink into him, cock sliding along the slit of his nook, setting his skin on fire. Dave thrust against him like that, pushing against the folds but not really into them, making a noise catch in his throat, hands grabbing onto Dave’s back. Thighs squeezed, their hips met, and Dave teased him, making his skin tingle, genetic fluid running down his nook to pool underneath him. Where the fuck did he learn that? His hips thrusted up and his bulge reached down to meet with Dave; to rub against him and make him moan and guide him in. Obediently, Dave angled his hips and pushed in. 

Drunk out of his goddamn mind with Dave fucking him deep into the couch, all he could do was anchor himself to Dave’s body and let his skin catch on fire, face hidden on the crook of Dave’s neck, lips pressed to Dave’s flesh to muffle himself on it. Dave pushed in deep and stretched him out, fucking him so hard that the world went dark and his body shivered, hands digging into the meat of Dave’s back, a whimper caught halfway up his throat. Each thrust staggered him further against the padding of the couch, sinking him into it; his entire body hidden under the frame of Dave’s own, knees up, wrapped tightly around his waist. In his ear, a groan that made him shiver and his thighs squeeze, Dave’s face in his hair, breathing into it. Deep, and hard, and fast, and he muffled a noise on Dave’s neck, stomach tensing up, genetic fluid dragging down his nook. A hand closed around his bulge and squeezed it, rubbed it, jerked it to make him arch off the couch and throw his head back, a groan through his lips, hands firm on Dave’s back. Their hips met hard, Dave jerked him off, and his legs squeezed, trying to close; his entire body on fire, tingling, on the cusp of making him scream. A kiss, Dave’s mouth hard on his own, swallowing down a whimper as his hips jerked up and his thighs quivered, nook pulsing with the orgasm that crashed through him like a wave, hitting him hard at first, throbbing with the aftershocks that followed, closing around Dave as it hit him. A groan in his mouth, a whimper, and a hand grabbed his thigh as Dave went completely still, buried to the hilt, shivering under his palms, breathing hot on his face. An exhale, and Dave pulled out, breaking the kiss to move away, but he grabbed him by the hair and kept him from leaving, bringing Dave down to crash-land a kiss on his mouth and fill his chest up instead. The fact that Dave actually kissed him here had his heart fluttering. 

Mostly clothed and sitting on the couch next to each other, he watched Dave lean forward and cover his face in both hands, either rubbing his eyes or nursing a headache, he wasn’t sure, but there was a sort of heaviness that settled in the atmosphere when Dave did that; something different and bizarre that brought him back to Tuesday; an unspeakable weight in the air between them, the way that Dave had lingered by the stairway, looking back at him, but hadn’t actually said anything. Did he regret it? Had he always regretted it? His heart skipped, and he knew that he was absolutely crestfallen right now, as a rational thought, knowing himself, but he couldn't really feel it in his chest; through the confusing haze in his head and the warmth of his blood, he couldn't really feel much of anything. Reaching forward, he took Dave’s arm, close to his wrist, and got his attention, red eyes that glanced at him over a shoulder. 

“I need to cut you out of my life.” He confessed, voice small, making Dave’s eyes widen in shock and both hands drop from his face. “I can’t be with you, Dave. I'm just a figure in a picture and that's not what I want out of this. I don't want you like that." 

"Karkat--"

"No, listen. You're in love with me. You know that, and you told me, but I'm not a choice to you, am I? I've never been; I'm just your friend. You love me, and you want me in your life, but you're not in mine, too, and I can't live like that. I can't look at you and touch you and hear your voice but not have you, Dave; it's torture. The way you kiss me, the way you touch me; it hurts. I'm yours, and I want you to be mine, too, but I know you won't be. You can't." Here, he slipped Dave's varsity off and pulled the glow stick from his arm, placing them both onto Dave's lap, making Dave glance down at them with a scowl on his face. "If you're not going to be mine, then I don't want you at all. I just can't do this limbo situation with you; I'm sorry. It hurts too much." 

With his chest constricting all the air out of his lungs, choking him where he sat, he got up to leave and just be away; to leave the room, leave this house, go away and start over somewhere else without having to see Dave’s face all the time, without having him be just out of reach, without having his heart break every time they talked. Standing up, he had his arm immediately grabbed by Dave, who joined him up on both feet, jacket hanging over an arm, red eyes glossed over, shining under the overhead light. The broken look on Dave’s face just cut him in half and strangled a scream in the pit of his throat and he  _ fucking  _ hated himself right now. 

“Karkat, wait. Just, please, don’t go.” Voice breaking as Dave spoke, sending a shiver down his spine, eyes watering, heart bleeding. How could he have hurt Dave like this? He was disgusting. “I need you to stay.” 

One hand covered Dave’s own, eyes staring up into his face, at the tears that refused to fall, the redness that spread across his nose and over his cheeks. He was going to miss him. Oh, god, he was going to miss him. 

“I love you, Dave.” With that, he let go of Dave’s hand, but Dave held him back, a firm hold on his hands and wrists, blonde brows furrowing together, red eyes completely glossed over. 

“Just for tonight,  _ please.” _ Spoken as tears finally dragged down Dave’s face, slicing his heart right through. “Please, Karkat, I have so much to fucking tell you, I just, I can’t think right now. It’s all kind of blended together and I don’t know where to start, I just, just give me the night, please. Please.” 

The hands that held his own squeezed, but he couldn’t really feel much; his body was numb and the world was loud. 

“Dave, if you’re not going to tell me that you’re mine, then I really don’t want to hear it. I just can’t do this anymore.” 

“Karkat.” A hard frown and Dave’s lips quivered, tears dripping down his cheeks, making his skin shine. “Please.” 

Well, he wanted nothing more than to kill himself right now and throw his own ashes into the wind, but he supposed that he could just as well do it tomorrow morning. With Dave’s hands on his own, he took note of how warm they were, closed tight over his wrists, the last time he’d get to touch them. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, then.” 

Watching Dave walk back to his room while wiping at his face felt like burning alive. 

It was cold in the living room,  _ really _ cold, as if a draft were coming in from outside, making him shiver, waking him up. His mind was a bottomless void, his subconscious completely dreamless, as if the hours in between laying down on the couch and waking up with the world spinning overhead had been clipped out of existence and erased from his brain. Through the fog, a thought reached him, that there was a blanket in a nearby cabinet; the one that he always slept under when staying over, that barely even smelled of pine trees anymore, so he got up and brought it down, wrapping himself with it, shivering to warm up. Turning around, he saw the front door open a gap, the source of the draft and the reason for his waking up, almost like a dream. Had somebody gotten in? With his blood swimming in his veins and his head only half-awake, he was rationally and justifiably alarmed, but couldn’t feel it in his chest; fingertips numb, feet stepping on clouds. He wasn’t even afraid. Was somebody in the house? He should probably check, was what the bravery of his muted heart told him to do, and, walking up to the door to close it, he actually saw Dave outside, sitting on the porch, jacket back on, a breeze ruffling his hair. Maybe no one had gotten in, actually. 

It was still dark out, but he didn’t care to check his phone for the time, and simply joined Dave out on the steps instead, taking a seat far enough away that roses couldn’t touch him, but that Dave could still see him in his peripheral; the rustling of the blanket following him as he sat down over it. He noticed Dave glancing at him but didn’t look back, watching the stillness of the street instead, dark and deserted like a horror movie, deafeningly silent. The wind blew a bit, and trees rustled across the street, but Dave didn’t really say anything about his arrival, and just let him sit there, decently far away from him, covered up to the ears in a soft, fuzzy blanket, wishing it still smelled of summer camp. The neighborhood was so dead and quiet that it almost felt like they were the last people on Earth, contemplating a night that would never end, treading the very fine line between dream and reality, where he couldn’t rightfully tell whether or not he was still drunk, or if he had actually woken up at all. 

“Remember when you were here on Tuesday, hanging out in Roxy’s room? And she called me in to tell me about this whole plot to catch Jake, but I saw you there with the rest of them and all I could think about was whether or not they knew about us. About what we did.” 

“You were more worried about that than about Jake.” 

“I was terrified. I thought their opinion of me had changed. I thought that they didn’t see me the same way that they always had; that somehow things were different now, and I had to explain myself. I thought you had done something irreparable and I was ready to never talk to you again.” 

“I did tell them, but it was earlier today. I think they’ve actually had us figured out for a while now, but I told them anyway. It wasn’t about you; I just couldn’t carry that around with me anymore. After that call, everything just got too heavy to live with.” 

“I shouldn’t have called you. I mean, I don’t regret saying anything that I said, because it’s all true and I’ll always stand by that, but the way I did it…” A click of the tongue from Dave, and the flower bushes across the street swayed lightly with the breeze. “Originally, I was going to stop by your place and maybe crash there, but I didn’t really want to see you. I did, but I also kind of didn’t. I guess you just come to mind when I think about going home.” 

Hugging the blanket closer to his face, he leaned forward, sort of curled up into a ball with both elbows resting on his knees. 

“How long had you been meaning to tell me?” 

“Since you snapped at me, and told me that you’re on my side, and pretty much just wrecked my shit for ever fucking doubting you. Since we went to Sonic, and didn’t really talk about anything, and there was a lot of silence, but it was the good kind of silence that doesn’t feel heavy, or awkward, or like weight on the shoulders. Since I realized I could just sit around with you, looking at other parked cars, and still have a really nice time.” A pause, and the wooden planks of the porch creaked, indicating movement on Dave’s part, but he refused to look, keeping his face toward the neighbor’s house. “Did you know that when the sun hits your eyes they look like rubies? That your hair isn’t black, but dark brown, and that your ears move when you talk? That your teeth aren’t as sharp as they look, but you’re still very careful, anyway?” The neighbor’s house was perfectly still, and he barely breathed, barely moved. “Did you know that your heart’s bigger than mine?” 

“Thanks for just listing everything that somehow still isn’t good enough for you, I guess.” Partially mumbled into his own arms, chin buried within the blanket. 

“That’s not true. You’re much better than I deserve.” 

“What did you want to tell me?” Curt and harsh, from the bottom of his chest, because none of this was fair, and he wasn’t here for this kind of bullshit. 

“When?” 

“Earlier tonight, yesterday, this entire week; every time you stare at me, and linger before leaving, and don’t say what you need to say. What is it? What’s keeping you?” 

Down the street, a light flickered, telephone wires shaking gently with the wind. Next to him, Dave moved again, but he trained his eyes on the pole, and the wires, and the long shadow that they cast along the street. 

“At this point, you already know what I have to say, I mean, I called you about it, I just.” A pause, and he could picture the way Dave moved his hand, flipping it in the air, trying to formulate a thought. “I guess I’m just afraid of becoming someone I don’t recognize.” 

“Is that what you wanted to tell me tonight; that you had to order your thoughts for?” 

“No. I’m just telling you why I never said what I needed to say, because being with you scares the living shit out of me. I love you, and I want to be with you, but who’s that going to turn me into? There’s comfort in the past, Karkat; in knowing who you are and what happens next. Someone needs to be the rock, and it’s always been me; for bro, for Roxy, for everybody. I don’t know how to ask for help, because everyone’s problems have always been bigger than mine, but you just set my entire life on fire and I don’t know what to do about it. Well, I  _ didn’t, _ I mean, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? That’s why we’re both here. You’re tired of getting hurt, and I’m tired of hurting you; there’s really only one solution, and I’ve known it forever, but I’ve been too scared to do it. I guess it took you destroying everything I thought I knew about myself to make me say fuck it, you know? The moment you said you were leaving I realized that there’s nothing more important in my life than you. I’m sorry to say it, but, uh, yeah; you’re my rock.” 

With his heart bleeding and his chest squeezing the air out of him, he closed his eyes, hiding his face in both arms. 

“Are you still mine, Karkat?” 

“I’ve been yours since I first saw you on campus, dickhead.” He confessed, voice small, half-muffled by the blanket, half-spoken into it. 

“Then I think it took me long enough to be yours, too.” 

That made him jerk up to sit upright as if struck by lightning through and through, eyes wide, hair on fire, and every ounce of his body completely fucking sober, like a slap to the face, but with loving repercussions, because what? What? 

“What?” Asked while staring Dave dead on, red on red, and Dave was the personification of nonchalance, leaning back on a hand, a smile on his face. A  _ real _ smile on his face, genuine and full and  _ right there. _ It set his heart off. “What did you just fucking say?” 

The smile turned into a grin and he was about to pass out. He had never seen anything this beautiful, this charming, this  _ real _ before and it popped like fireworks in the center of his chest. 

“I said I’m yours, Karkat. You’re mine and I’m yours, too; that’s how it works now.” 

“Pinch me.” 

A scoff, and Dave leaned forward, reaching a hand to him. He pulled an arm from underneath the blanket and offered it to be pinched, but Dave just took his hand instead, bringing it up for a kiss. 

“I’m still going to be yours in the morning, dude; chill.” 

“I’m not chill. Nothing about this is chill, Dave, I--” 

“Karkat, I love you. Can we just hug and watch the sunrise right now? You can freak out later.” 

“No!” He shouted, but the moment he did, Dave pulled him close by the hand in his own, dragging him across the porch as he tried to jerk away and move back, legs trapped within the blanket. “What about all of that identity bullshit?” Spoken while being pulled and dragged, a feat made much more difficult with the blanket all wrapped around him like a snake. “Not knowing who you are? Being scared to be with me? Being a piece of shit as your only personality trait? Where did all of  _ that _ go?” 

“I guess we’ll just figure stuff out together, dude. Nothing matters more than you do. Not to me.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Hissed through his teeth when Dave managed to get him under his wing, even if to no avail, because the moment they were close enough for it, he crash-landed on Dave’s chest and buried his face in his neck, anyway; both arms closed tight around him, squeezing hard. 


	22. Lunch with Jake

Under the loud beating of his own heart and the deafening cheer from the crowd, echoing through his ears and reverberating off his skull, the rest of the world was too muffled to hear; his own thoughts like a strangled scream in the back of his head, impossible to focus on, heart in his throat and Jake’s mouth on his own, kissing him heavy, leaning on him and pushing his head back. A hand found Jake’s neck to ground himself; to anchor himself and keep from being swept away by the noise, by his own heart that choked him, by Jake’s hand that touched his arm and pulled him closer. A palm flat on the low of his back and their chests met, Jake holding him in the kiss, the entire world spinning right over their heads. Skin warm from the overwhelming attention, the screaming and hollering blending into one, and his lungs moved, and his chest pushed against Jake’s own, but he couldn’t breathe. The hand on Jake’s neck squeezed it, and brought him closer, and held him in a show of kissing him back just as hard before letting go, faces firmly parted, wind in his lungs. He gasped, Jake smirked, the crowd yelled, and the green of his eyes were so bright, and the vetiver leaves of his cologne were so strong that the world went still for a second, for a quiet second, but only for a second. In between the two of them, a whisper;  _ Will you be my boyfriend?, _ barely audible over the crowd, a decibel away from nonexistence. His heart punched him so hard that his ears rang and the world darkened at the edges, erasing the mob around them, letting Jake be the center of his universe.  _ Yes, _ he whispered back, taking a step backwards, watching a grin break on Jake’s face to push dimples into his cheeks and put diamonds into his eyes. 

Absently, he reached behind himself, going for Roxy, trying to get her attention, trying near-desperately to reach for the closest lifeline, and found it not three feet away, a hand on her arm to hold on for dear life, like a hand closing around the handle of a knife, except he didn’t jab Jake in the neck. Another step back, and Jake’s hands slipped from his body, untangling the two of them from one another as Roxy grabbed his elbow with her free hand and yanked him away. Through the noise in the room and the screaming in his own head, he watched Jake’s grin, the beauty of it, the artistry that was the build of his face and the shape of his jaw, wide, sharp, a thousand times more handsome when he smiled; a billion times more than that when the smile was directed at him. Roxy dragged him back, the rest of the family helped, and all he could do was stare at the beautiful delight on Jake’s face, heightened by the dim lighting of the room, skin soft like velvet, the air warm like summer. Both of his elbows were taken, all of his family worked to drag him away, and soon the crowd engulfed the entirety of them. 

Twelve on the dot, and he got up from his seat, going for the door with no ceremonies. On the corner of the screen, a text from Jake, telling him that everything was ready and all he had to do was show up. A quick confirmation text in response and he navigated the hallways for the stairway, following the thickening crowd down to the first floor. They looked at him a lot more today than they usually did, as if watching his every move for later documentation online, or perhaps for a study of the human psyche when so thoroughly observed. It’d be lying to say that he didn’t check the posts about him and extensively researched what the general consensus on him was, but he had never done it as obsessively as last night, watching and rewatching almost every video of the kiss, staring at pictures of it for hours on end, losing sleep over the simple fact that Jake hadn’t texted him all night after they had left the building, as if waiting for this morning to do it, to ask him out to lunch. Same place, same time, but a different outcome from Wednesday, and he sincerely hoped that Jake was right about that. This was his last chance. 

Crossing the campus for Gate B, he wondered if Jake had really meant that question last night, heart leaping with the memory of it, hands closing into fists to keep himself grounded. Were they really…? He couldn’t even bring himself to humor the idea without a clear confirmation of it, because, for as much as Jake had asked him with  _ those words, _ the crowd had been loud enough to affect their judgement, and had kind of pushed them to give the people what they wanted instead of letting them behave in accordance to their true selves; a good show, realistic drama, love in real life. Love? Attraction disguised as love? No, romance. Real romance, or, at least, that was how he had seen it, and that was how he had played it, too. Despite how right the kiss had felt, doing it in front of the whole world had been performance art, or, at least, at first; to hear the crowd grow louder, to have the entire campus know about them, to have witnesses to their involvement and make it feel real with none of that secrecy from before. He had, however, sincerely meant his answer to Jake’s question, and could feel how quickly his heart raced from it, and how heavy it pounded him in the chest, because Jake had a past with performing for a crowd even more than he did, and acting was pretty much second nature to him, especially by the end of their relationship, which begged the question, had Jake been acting last night? If the audience hadn’t been there, would Jake have done it all the same? He’d never really know. Actually, he’d find out right now. 

In Jake’s building, the usual people that hung out on the ground floor all greeted him, damn near in unison, watching him walk in with wide smiles on their faces and interest glinting in their eyes. He offered a bounce of the brows and a polite nod in response, which was a good enough greeting to these total strangers, before taking the stairs one flight up. There was movement behind him while he did, feet shuffling on the ground, the rustling of clothes, but, even if people had followed him upstairs, he didn’t care to check. It didn’t matter. There was nobody up here, not even in the living room, which was what he took note of. If they all happened to be right behind him, though, that was a different story. Walking down the hallway, he came up to the kitchen, where Jake leaned on one of the counters with a glass of white wine in hand, green eyes finding him right away, a wide smile breaking into Jake’s face at his sight. His heart fluttered from it, and his breathing hitched, but he was fine. It was fine; Jake’s good-looks would always get to him. It wasn’t even surprising at this point. 

“Hey!” A brief greeting while Jake moved away from the counter and came over to him, wine swirling in the glass, a grin on his face. He could feel just how hard his heart hammered into his chest when Jake stepped into his personal space and leaned closer, vermouth washing over him, bergamot in his lungs, and his breathing halted, waiting for the kiss that didn’t land. “Can I kiss you?” 

Watching the roundness of Jake’s teeth and the shape of his mouth, he reached up a bit, touching his forehead to Jake’s temple, nose brushing the side of Jake’s own. That was confirmation enough, and had Jake closing the one inch between them, making his eyes close and his heart jump and his face burn. Sweet, and chaste, and he couldn’t even taste the wine off of Jake’s lips. With the exception of last night, he couldn’t remember the last time that Jake had kissed him without trying to make him breathless. Parting from him, Jake took his hand and guided him the three steps to the kitchen table, right under the window, where lunch was set with a glass of white wine for him, too. 

“I was thinking Portuguese; codfish, potatoes, asparagus. I’m aware that a truly Portuguese dish would’ve had to be served with port, but I much prefer white wine with fish.” 

“Did you make all of this?” 

“Yes. It’s quite simple, really.” Letting go of his hand, Jake took a seat, having him do the same across the table. “The only ingredient you positively mustn’t forget is rosemary. The rest might be adapted.” 

“I didn’t know you cooked.” 

“I picked it up a couple of years ago. There are only so many days a man can live off of ready meals and microwaved pizza.” 

“Sure.” Spoken briefly as he reached for his own glass of wine and sipped from it, consciously trying to be polite instead of chugging it all down to get drunk fast, like he normally did. That wasn’t the point of this, so he set the glass back down and joined Jake for some European delicacies. 

They talked, and joked, and poked fun at each other, but, for as nice as lunch was, and for as good as Jake’s cooking turned out to be, he couldn’t get rid of the voice in the back of his head that replayed the events of last night infinitely and was dying to ask Jake about that question; if he had meant it, if his answer had counted, if they were really, officially together now. If Jane Crocker was really not going to be a problem, and when he’d get to meet Jake’s new friends on campus to have lunch with them. If he would still have to go around ignoring Jake, and watching him from a distance, and pretending that he didn’t desperately wish to be part of his friend group, or if it had all really changed for him. He finished the last of his glass and poured the two of them another one, just to empty out the bottle while Jake wrapped up some story about his last vacations back in England; how his family still had no idea what to gift him for Christmas, and his aunts and uncles still resented him for his parents’ inheritance, and how his cousins thought he was the coolest guy around just because he had been to America and was unashamed enough to fake the worst American accent that Dirk had ever heard. It sounded like he was trying to go for something of a southern twang there, but had no idea what that actually was, despite how long he had spent in Texas by now. Exaggerated and completely inaccurate, Jake’s American accent resembled Bradley Cooper’s speech impediment in  _ A Star is Born _ but slowed down to half its original speed. It was bad. It was so bad that Dirk actually, sincerely cringed hearing it, and made Jake burst out laughing. Good for him. 

Once their plates were empty and a second bottle had been opened, without any input on his part and entirely out of Jake’s volition, he noticed that his leg had started to bounce, his hands couldn’t stop fidgeting with the glass, and Jake’s voice had become dull and distant background noise in the back of his mind, going on and on about his hometown, his last vacations and all the places that he had visited in Europe while conveniently forgetting all about last night, which Dirk had been under the impression was the whole reason why they had even gotten together for this right now. Clearly, he was wrong, and the wine in his glass swirled in a little vortex, shining under the sunlight, real crystal in his hand; Jake must’ve brought this with him from his grandparents’ home. On second thought, what a strange thing to bring to college grounds; crystal glasses over something a lot more important, say, literally anything else. Had he brought them just for this? Did he have them stowed away somewhere safe to only get brought out on special occasions? Was he special enough to warrant real crystal? He didn’t remember Jake’s grandparents drinking from anything that hadn’t been tall, crystal glasses. In fact, those were people that refused to downgrade and only existed within the utmost luxuries that their money could afford, which was pretty much every luxury that the world currently had to offer, so maybe Jake didn’t bring these out for a special occasion at all, but this was just how he lived on a day-to-day basis, because expensive china was only treasured by the people without the means to buy them. Jake’s grandparents wouldn’t understand that line of thought. 

A deep sigh from across the table, and he glanced up to see Jake leaning back on his seat, with lips pressed together and a look on his face that made his blood run cold, because he hadn’t been listening, and Jake had totally noticed. Jake always did notice, which wasn’t new, but he had spaced out hard just now, and honestly couldn’t even bring himself to recall the last thing that Jake had said. Shit. 

“Alright, mate, what is it? What’s on your mind?” Voice dull and jaded and, honestly, he deserved it. “I know this look, Dirk; something’s eating you up inside, so what is it?” 

“Last night.” Low and quiet and almost even shy while his heart raced, hand tightening the grip on the glass. 

“Yes? Quite magnificent, I would say. Striking, really, how grandiose it all turned out to be. I had no idea you were coming over.” 

“Why was Jane here?” 

Another sigh, but this one was accompanied with green eyes closing in lieu of rolling right out of Jake’s head, making his heart jump up to his throat, chest growing cold. He shouldn’t have brought her up. Was Jake upset? Goddammit, he fucking hated himself right now. 

“Dirk. My love. Will we ever get past this?” His heart raced and his chest flourished and his face burned, because Jake had never called him that. They just didn’t talk to each other like that. 

“I just want to know what she was doing here. I’m not accusing you of anything.” 

“Well, your best friend Karkat and I had a talk yesterday morning which I wanted to discuss with her, because she was directly involved in it. We both knew that you would be incredibly upset if I remained close friends with her after our involvement, and so I thought it best to let her know of my priorities, regardless of how grand a friend she’s been to me. Unfortunately, due to my own actions, she’s become a liability for your peace of mind, and the subsequent trust that I look to instill in you. I’ve been repeating the fact that I’ve changed, but I don’t expect you to believe me without any proof of it, and that’s simply one of the many calculated moves that I’ve had to make. I’m still friends with Jane, but I will no longer be confiding in her, and her understanding of that is why we remain on good terms with each other.” 

“Man, I don’t care if you’re friends with her. I don’t care if you’re friends with half the campus, just…” 

“Just what?” 

_ Just choose  _ me. A shake of the head, and he leaned back onto his seat, face turned to stare out the window; at the students that came and went, at the way that the trees moved in the breeze, at how brightly the sun shone down on campus and made it warmer. Jake moved in his peripheral, but he didn’t look at him. 

“Dirk, let’s be honest with ourselves here and admit to the fact that yes, it would’ve bothered you immensely had I remained close friends with any woman I’ve been to bed with, and I realize that so you don’t have to. The unfortunate wounds that we are plagued by stem from a shared source to where that came from, and it’s not something that I want to ruin us with. I don’t want you to feel uneasy every time I talk to Jane, and I don’t want to make you wonder who I was with last every time we see each other, because it’s you. It’s going to be you, and I need you to see that. I’m taking steps to make you see that.” 

There was a knot in his throat that slowly started to strangle him, like a firm hand around his neck, squeezing harder with each word that Jake said. The wine in his glass sparkled, the crystal of the glass shone, and his hand was warm in the sun, in the corner that actually reached him where he sat, most of it on the ground between the table and the wall. With the way Jake talked, he had no reason to believe that he wasn’t fully invested in this relationship (relationship?), and, ironically, that was what had him doubting the veracity; the sincerity of his words. No matter how much Jake committed, or said he committed, there would always be part of him wondering just how true that was, and if Jake wasn’t really, actually sleeping with the neighbor next door. The scar of distrust had been slashed far too deeply for him, or Jake, or Susan, or anyone to just reach in and pull out of him. He had already tried. 

“I’ve got nothing to hide, mate. I’m not pulling any tricks or trying to fool anyone here. I’ve traveled far and wide; I’ve tasted all the waters and I’ve seen all there is to see. I know what I want, and I’ll make whatever sacrifice I have to get it.” Spoken as Jake swirled his wine around the glass, then took a sip from it. “I asked to be transferred so I would see you again.” 

“I already know that.” 

“Well, what about last night, then?” Spoken just before Jake downed the rest of his glass and brought it back to the table. “What’s keeping you so restless?” 

His heart hammered into his rib cage like a jackhammer on concrete. 

“Do you remember what you asked me?” 

“Yes, of course.” Voice light and level while Jake picked up the bottle and split up the rest of its contents between both of their glasses, like a good host would, without him even asking. Setting it down next to the first one, Jake glanced up at him, green eyes making his heart jump. “I asked you if you’d be mine, and you said yes. I invited you here this morning as our first official date, which is why I cooked for you and brought out the French wine. What’s wrong with that?” 

He couldn’t even fucking breathe. Oh my god. 

“Nothing. It’s…” Oh my god, it was really happening. It was actually, really,  _ finally _ happening, and his hands shook, and his chest squeezed, and his eyes burned, and they were  _ together _ together, and he didn’t think that that would’ve ever happened. A shiver ran through him like a sheet of cold, cold rain while his heart raced and his vision trembled, breath coming in short, shallow, every single nerve in his body collectively trying not to freak out. Jake was his boyfriend. Oh my god, Jake was his boyfriend. He could barely fucking believe it. 

“What is it?” Jake asked, voice easy and calm, except he couldn’t really make out the expression on his face through the tears; Jake’s silhouette shaking every time he blinked. 

“It’s perfect, Jake. Thank you.” Small and sincere before he brought his own glass up for a big sip. 

Holy fucking shit. 

“Is Sub Rosa still happening tonight?” Addressed to him as he drained the entirety of his glass in a single go, because this was so fucking much that he had forgotten how to breathe, and his pulse raced so quickly that it was making him light-headed, just about to pass out, his mind just loosely holding onto reality with its fingertips. Bringing the glass back down, he saw Jake lean back on his seat, watching him from a small distance, sipping leisurely on his wine. One big breath in, or as big as he could make it without Jake noticing that he was doing anything out of the ordinary at all, and he closed his eyes. 

“Yes, it’s still on. The whole gang’s going.” 

“Can I give you a ride?” 

That had his eyes snapping open to stare straight ahead, at Jake’s absolute composure throughout all of this, slowly twirling the glass in his hand, watching him with two greens that he, somehow, couldn’t really read. 

“Sure.” 

A small, pleased smile on Jake’s face, and he drank from the glass. 

They were actually, officially dating. The thought roamed around in his head while Jake talked, and changed the subject, and continued to make lunch an incredibly pleasing time. When the hour was up, they left the table and moved over to the kitchen door, stopping by it rather than going through, for some reason. It caught him by surprise that Jake had decided to hang back instead of leaving, but he took that in stride and remained inside with him, one step too far into his personal space, arms damn near brushing. Turning to face him properly, Jake touched his waist and planted a kiss on his face, landing square on the lips, making his eyes shut closed and his lungs breathe deep. Passionate but sweet, and he’d probably need to get used to it; getting kissed hello and goodbye like they had never done before, which, honestly, still shook him a little bit, but not something he really minded. It was… Actually… Kind of nice. Taking Jake’s arm in a hand, he kept him from stepping away, holding him close, chests an inch apart. 

“Are you staying?” He asked, voice low, the workings of a whisper. 

“Yes; I’m going to clean up, but you can go on ahead. I’m not bothered at all.” 

“Can you…” Practically slipped past his lips without a second thought, but trailing off with his hesitation, unsure if this was even worth it. If he even wanted to say it. 

“Yes, I can. Whatever you want, I can do it.” Whispered back to him in the small space between them, and, well, when Jake put it like that, there really was no reason why he shouldn’t say it now. He could feel just how hard his face burned even before he had said a word already, heat coming up his neck. 

“Can you say it?” Voice small, the smallest, the quietest while his face burned alive and his heart punched him in the chest. “You know, the word you used last night.” 

A tug on the corners of Jake’s lips, a small smile, and green eyes watched him so softly, so sweetly, that it made his eyes tear up again, heart stuck halfway up his throat. He was being ridiculous, but Jake was humoring him, anyway. 

“Do you want to hear that you’re my boyfriend?” Smooth and low and just between the two of them and his heart soared, lungs drawing in breath. Yes.  _ Yes. _ “You’re my boyfriend, Dirk.” Spoken while a hand found his face and cupped his chin, fingers on his jaw, skin burning under Jake’s touch. “And I’m all yours, too.” 

One lean forward, and their faces met again. 


End file.
